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helioooss · 28 days ago

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synopsis: you’ve always been in love with sana…but she’s your best friend. and she’s straight. but you just love her so much that you’re willing to wait.

w/c: 7k+

warnings: angst, slow burn like usual. actually proofread (thanks grammarly).

a/n: i promise hard times p2 is coming, it’s just really long and i have to cut it down to at least 8k words LMAOOO

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was one of those mornings where nothing seemed particularly special, but your world was about to change in ways you couldn’t have predicted. you sat at your desk in the architecture firm, your fingers gliding over your keyboard as you worked on some revisions for a new project.

the sun streamed in through the tall windows, casting a soft glow over the open-plan office. it was peaceful, the quiet hum of the air conditioner blending with the distant chatter of colleagues.

you had already been with the company for two years at that point, and most days followed the same routine: coffee stains on your desk, project meetings, drafting designs. your colleague and closest friend, jaehyung, would often pop by to gossip about office politics or the latest sports drama, but today, the usual hum of the office seemed more heightened — like something different was in the air.

and then she walked in.

you were so absorbed in your work that you didn’t notice chaeyoung from hr walking towards you until she cleared her throat. you blinked, looking up, and that’s when you saw her.

“this is sana,” chaeyoung spoke, gesturing to the woman standing beside her. “she’s new here, and i’d like you to show her around today.”

sana was beautiful, so beautiful that for a moment, you forgot where you were. her long dark hair framed her face perfectly, and her eyes sparkled with an easy warmth that made your heart skip a beat. it was awkward, the way you felt instantly flustered, but you swallowed it down, reminding yourself that this was work.

this was a professional setting.

“i’m y/n,” you managed to croak out, standing up from your desk and offering a hand. your palms felt sweaty, and you hoped she didn’t notice.

“nice to meet you,” she smiled, shaking your hand. her smile was bright, and it only made things worse. there was something about her that seemed so effortless.

“of course, likewise,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the awkwardness settling in your chest.

what were you so nervous about?

you led her through the office, showing her where the break room was, the conference rooms, and the layout of the design floor. your voice felt stiff, formal, and you hated it — sana didn’t seem to notice. she asked questions, laughed at your small jokes, and nodded thoughtfully as you explained the details of different projects.

it wasn’t until you reached the café across the street, where you both grabbed coffee after the tour, that the conversation started to feel more human.

“so, how long have you been with the company?” she asked, sitting across from you, her hands wrapped around her mug.

“two years now,” you replied, feeling a little more relaxed. “it’s a good place to work. lots of creative freedom, which is nice for someone like me who’s obsessed with details.”

she laughed softly. “i get that. i can already tell we’re going to get along.”

and just like that, you felt a small crack in the awkward wall that had been building up inside you.

as you both sipped your coffees, you couldn’t help but think how nice it was to talk to someone who seemed so easygoing, so similar to you in ways you hadn’t expected. but there was a tiny tension that you couldn’t ignore, a pull toward her that made your heart race. you shook it off. it was too soon to start thinking about her like that.

besides, you had minji…your girlfriend of six months. and you were happy, right? things had been going well with her, at least until recently, when she’d been distant and secretive.

you didn’t want to think about that now. not with sana sitting across from you, smiling in that way that made your chest feel tight. however, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just changed in your life. you didn’t know what it was, but it was there, lingering.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

weeks passed, and your life settled into a new routine. you, jaehyung, and sana became close, often grabbing lunch together and bouncing ideas off each other during project meetings.

sana was easy to talk to, and the awkwardness you’d felt when you first met her quickly melted away. the more you got to know her, the more you realised how similar you were: your sense of humour, your love for silly internet memes, even your taste in movies. it felt like you’d known her forever, and soon enough, you couldn’t imagine your days at work without her.

as your friendship with sana grew, your relationship with minji started to crumble.

you couldn’t put your finger on when it started, maybe a few weeks after you’d met sana…but minji had become distant. she canceled plans, avoided your texts, and when you did see her, it felt like she was somewhere else entirely. you tried to ignore it, convincing yourself that she was just busy with her bar job, but deep down, you knew something was wrong.

and then, one night, it all came crashing down.

you had gone to minji’s apartment, hoping to surprise her with dinner. you hadn’t heard from her all day, and something inside you told you to check in. when you arrived, you saw her through the window, sitting on the couch with someone else. their hands were intertwined, their heads leaned close together.

your heart dropped.

you didn’t even bother knocking. you turned and walked away, the image of them burned into your mind. your phone buzzed in your pocket: minji’s name lighting up the screen, but you didn’t answer. you couldn’t.

that night, you cried yourself to sleep. the betrayal cut deep, and the pain was overwhelming. you had trusted her, loved her, and now it was all gone. the next few days were a blur of silence and heartache. you barely ate, barely slept.

jaehyung and sana noticed something was wrong, but you didn’t have the energy to explain it to them.

it wasn’t until a few days later, during lunch with sana, that you finally broke down.

“minji cheated on me,” you confessed, your voice trembling. you stared down at your food, unable to meet her eyes.

sana’s expression shifted, her face softening with concern. “oh, y/n…i’m so sorry. i had no idea.”

“i didn’t either,” you muttered, feeling the tears sting your eyes again. “i thought everything was fine. but i guess i was wrong.”

she reached across the table and gently squeezed your hand. her touch was warm, comforting, and it made your heart ache even more. “you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who’ll treat you the way you treat them, with love and respect. she lost you, remember that.”

her words were kind, but they only made you feel worse. because as much as you tried to deny it, part of you wished sana was that person. it was a selfish thought, one that made you feel guilty, but it was there, gnawing at the back of your mind.

you quickly pulled your hand away, not wanting to dwell on that feeling. she was your friend, probably your best friend now, and that was all she could ever be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the weeks that followed were difficult. you were still reeling from the breakup with minji, but somehow, having sana by your side made things a little easier. she was always there for you, whether it was bringing you coffee in the morning or sending you funny instagram reels late at night to cheer you up.

jaehyung, of course, teased you endlessly about how close you and sana had become.

“you two are practically joined at the hip,” he joked one afternoon, leaning against your desk with a smirk. “i’m starting to think you’ve replaced me as her best friend.”

“please,” you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t deny the truth behind his words. you and sana had grown closer, and it wasn’t something you could easily ignore.

“you like her do you?” he asked in that teasing tone.

blood rushes to your cheeks, turning away from him with a scuff as you tried to hide a smile. “shut the fuck up.”

as the months passed, something else began to grow too: your feelings for sana. they were small at first, easy to brush off as just admiration for your friend. however, the more time you spent with her, the harder it became to push those feelings away.

the problem was, she was straight. she had boyfriends over the years, relationships that came and went, and you always stood on the sidelines, watching. it hurt, more than you wanted to admit, but you buried those feelings deep, telling yourself that her friendship was enough when in reality, you were suffocating in the feelings you couldn’t admit.

your college friends, jihyo and jisoo, noticed the change in you before you did.

“you like her, don’t you?” jihyo asked one night over drinks.

you froze, your glass halfway to your lips. “what?”

“sana; you’re totally in love with her.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. jihyo was right, and you knew it.

“you should just tell her,” jisoo added, her tone gentle. “it’s been years, y/n. you can’t keep holding it in forever.”

you shook your head, laughing bitterly. “she’s straight. what’s the point?”

“you don’t know that,” jihyo said, raising an eyebrow. “maybe she doesn’t even realise how she feels about you.”

you snorted. “yeah, right.”

“you know you don’t have to wait for her forever, right?” jisoo has a concerned look plastered on her face. “you’re allowed to see other people, too.”

“i know,” you heaved out a sigh, taking a full sip of your wine.

but the seed had been planted, and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it. should you tell her? would it ruin everything if you did? every time you thought about confessing, your chest tightened with fear. you couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, even if it meant keeping your feelings locked away forever.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

time continued to pass, and eventually, sana started dating jaehyung. it shouldn’t have surprised you, they had always been close, and you knew jaehyung had liked her for a while even though he never really told you. when he finally said something, the news hit you harder than you expected.

“hey, i just wanted you to hear it from me first,” he said one day, pulling you aside after a meeting. “sana and i are seeing each other.

your stomach twisted. you forced a smile, even though your heart was breaking all over again. “that’s great, jaehyung. i’m happy for you guys.”

and you meant it. at least, a part of you did somehow. jaehyung was your best friend, and if anyone deserved to be happy, it was him. the other part of you, the part that had been in love with sana for so long, felt like it was being ripped apart. you felt sorry for yourself.

you watched them together, always keeping your distance, always pretending like it didn’t bother you. sana was happy, and that was all that mattered.

months went by in an instant and whilst you were somehow satisfied with your place in her life, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of loss. every time you saw them together, laughing and holding hands, it felt like you were watching the future you’d never have with sana slip further and further away.

and then, one day, it was over. just like that.

“we broke up,” jaehyung said casually over lunch, as if it were no big deal. “mutual, though. no hard feelings.”

you blinked, surprised. “what happened?@

he shrugged like he didn’t just lose the girl of everyone’s dreams. “we realised we’re better as friends. it wasn’t meant to be. it felt…forced, y’know?”

you didn’t know what to say, but relief flooded through you, followed immediately by guilt. you had no right to feel relieved. this was jaehyung’s relationship, and yet here you were, glad that it was over.

“are you okay?” you asked him, trying to sound supportive.

he nodded, smiling softly. “yeah, i’m fine. honestly, it feels like the right decision.”

as much as the breakup brought you some sense of closure, it also left you feeling more confused than ever. because now, without jaehyung in the picture, you were left alone with your feelings for sana. and they weren’t going away anytime soon.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

over five years passed, and not much changed. you were still single, still in love with sana, still watching her live her life from the sidelines. dating people every now and then, only for her to dump them sooner before you could even have a full picture of their personality.

you kept busy with work — you were up on the chart now, and with friends, with anything that would distract you from the ache in your chest. no matter how much time went by, you couldn’t let go of her.

“waiting…as an act of love,” jaehyung said at one point, shaking his head at you. “will do you no good. just take the risk and tell her how you feel.”

“how did you do it?”

“you know, when sana and i dated briefly — nothing happened. we held hands and kissed, but it never went far from that. i think, deep down, she always had you in mind.”

“i don’t think she feels that way about me.”

“her life revolved around you then, what more now?”

as the years went on, the air between you and sana began to thicken, weighed down by something you couldn’t quite name at first. after three years of friendship, the kind of closeness that had felt inevitable, it was now something different. where once you shared every moment, every little thought, there was now a tension growing, a tension that neither of you seemed willing to address directly.

you had stayed single for so long, not out of choice, but because you couldn’t move past your feelings for sana. while she dated others and broke things off when they didn’t work out, you remained the steady constant in her life; the one who stayed when her world shattered.

you had tried to bury your feelings for her, to put them away in some hidden corner of your heart, telling yourself that being her friend was enough. but it wasn’t. it hadn’t been for a long time.

“so, any girls in your life yet, y/n?” jihyo eyes you, your eyes falling on the ring in her finger.

she had gotten recently engaged and all of your friends, including sana, had been invited to a celebratory dinner. you knew where this was going to go.

nayeon laughed, shaking her head. “who was your last ex again?”

before you could mutter a word, sana placed her palm on your back, rubbing it in circles. “c’mon guys, not minji again!”

“what makes you all think i can get a girl?” you joked, but not really. “you all scare them away.”

“at this point, maybe you and sana should just marry each other,” momo teased - but you knew she meant it.

“righto, i’m always going to say yes to sana,” you elbowed her gently. “ask me and i’ll say yes.”

meanwhile, sana just looked down and smiled. “idiot,” she muttered.

then came lisa.

she was like a sudden burst of color in your otherwise grey world. she was bright, funny, kind, and she understood you in ways that felt so effortless. from the moment you met her, it was like something had shifted in you; a part of you that had been dormant, that had waited and waited for someone to break through the wall you’d built around yourself.

it was something new.

with lisa came a new kind of tension between you and sana, one that was much harder to ignore.

at first, sana didn’t say much. she would make small, offhanded comments about how often you were spending time with lisa, or how she hadn’t seen you as much lately. it started innocently enough — just a teasing remark here and there. but soon, those remarks became more frequent, more pointed.

“so, is lisa your new best friend now?” she’d ask with a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“no,” you’d reply, trying to brush it off, though the weight of her words tugged at something inside you. “you know you’re my best friend, sana.”

“how did you two meet again?”

“at jaehyung’s party, remember?” you reminded her. “she works for his firm, their new financial officer.”

“cool, she’s cute…you would look cute together.”

but it was more than that. she wasn’t just teasing. she was pulling at the threads of something deeper, something you weren’t ready to confront. because even though you could see lisa as your partner, there was still that part of you…the part that had always loved sana — that couldn’t let go.

as time passed, sana’s clinginess grew. she’d text you late at night, asking if you were free to talk, even though she knew you were with lisa. she’d show up at your apartment unannounced, acting as though it were perfectly normal for her to be there when you both had other plans.

you tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, telling yourself she was just being her usual self, yet there was something different now, something more intense behind her actions that you couldn’t ignore.

“you’ve been so busy lately,” she said one evening as you sat on the couch in her apartment, a movie playing in the background that neither of you were really watching. her tone was casual, but her words were loaded with unspoken meaning.

“work’s been insane,” you replied, trying to keep the conversation light. “jaehyung and lisa are trying to make me jump to their firm as the head architect but i got offered to become a managing director someplace else.”

sana didn’t respond immediately, and when you glanced over at her, she was staring at the floor, her jaw clenched tightly.

“you don’t have to make time for me anymore,” she muttered, her voice so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

“what?” you asked, turning to face her fully, your heart sinking at the sadness in her tone.

“i said, you don’t have to make time for me anymore,” she repeated, a little louder this time. her eyes were still fixed on the ground. “you’ve got lisa now, right? i’m just…i don’t want to be in the way.”

you blinked, caught off guard. “sana, you’re never in the way. you know that.”

she finally looked up at you, her eyes sharp but tinged with something you didn’t quite understand. “am i? because it sure feels like i’m losing you.”

you felt the words hit you square in the chest. losing you? she wasn’t losing you. you had been there for her through everything. you had been the one who stood by her side when every relationship she had crumbled, and now she thought she was losing you?

“you’re not losing me,” you said softly, trying to soothe the tension building in the room. “i’m still here. i’m always going to be here.”

she laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh, it was bitter and filled with frustration. “you say that, but everything’s changed. ever since you met her, it’s like…it’s like you don’t have time for me anymore.”

you felt a lump form in your throat. “things haven’t changed, sana. i still care about you just as much as I always have. lisa and i are honestly nothing.”

“but it’s different,” she snapped, her voice rising with emotion. “it’s not like before. we don’t spend time together like we used to. you don’t call me late at night anymore. you don’t tell me things first. i…i miss you.”

her words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, and suddenly, you realised that this was more than just jealousy.

she missed you. she missed the connection you shared, the closeness that had defined your friendship for so long. you were different now, and she couldn’t seem to handle it.

“sana,” you said softly, reaching out to touch her hand, but she pulled away before you could make contact.

“don’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “don’t act like this is all fine when it’s not. i know you’re falling for her, and i can’t handle it. i hate how much it bothers me, but i can’t…i can’t stand seeing you with someone else.”

her words cut through you like a knife. you had spent years loving her, waiting for her, hoping she’d see you the way you saw her. and now, as you were finally ready to let her go, she was pulling you back in, making you feel like maybe there was still a part of her that needed you in a way that went beyond friendship.

“why does it bother you so much?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart racing as you waited for her response.

sana’s eyes flickered with multiple things; fear, uncertainty, something you couldn’t quite place. she looked away again, her hands trembling slightly as she fidgeted with the edge of her sweater.

“i don’t know,” she admitted, her voice so quiet you could barely hear her. “i don’t know why it bothers me so much. i just, i hate seeing you with her. i hate that she gets to have you in ways that i…that i never did.”

your breath hitched at her words, a flood of emotions crashing over you. there it was — the thing neither of you had ever said out loud, the cloud you had both danced around for years. she was jealous, not just because she missed you, but because she wanted you in a way she had never admitted before.

“sana…” you began, but she cut you off.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i know it’s not fair. i know i don’t have the right to feel this way, but i can’t help it. i hate that you’re slipping away from me, and i don’t know how to stop it.”

you sat there, frozen, unsure of what to say. the truth was hanging between you, unspoken but undeniable, and for the first time in years, you saw it clearly. sana wasn’t just afraid of losing you as her best friend: she was afraid of losing you, period. deep down, even if she hadn’t admitted it to herself, she had feelings for you too.

“you’re not losing me,” you said again, but this time, your voice was steadier, more certain. “but things are different now, sana. i can’t go back to how things were before.”

“why not?” she asked, her voice laced with desperation. “why can’t we go back?”

suddenly, the last few years flashed inside your mind — from the moment you met sana until now; the premonition, feeling that you were going to fall in love with her eventually. the bottled feelings sit on the tip of your tongue, just waited to be spilled out. you love her.

you love her and that was it.

“because i’m in love with you and i would like to move on,” you finally said, the words spilling out before you could stop them, years worth of bottling up your feelings for a girl who could never love you back.

the room went silent, the weight of your confession crashing down like a tidal wave. sana stared at you, her eyes wide with shock, her lips parted as if she couldn’t quite process what you had just said.

“what?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“i’ve been in love with you for so long,” you continued, your voice breaking as you spoke the words you had kept locked inside for years. “and i’ve tried to move on, i’ve tried to let go, but i can’t. it’s always been you, sana. and that’s why things can’t go back to the way they were. because i can’t keep pretending that i don’t feel this way.”

sana’s face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears as she looked away, her hands trembling in her lap. “i didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t realise —“

“i know,” you said softly, the tears spilling over now. “i didn’t expect you to. i was okay with loving you from afar. to watch you grow old and have a family with the person you deserve, i’ve come to terms with the fact that it’ll never be me.”

for a long moment, neither of you said anything. the silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things that had gone unsaid for so long.

“i need time,” she finally said, her voice barely audible as she stood up, her movements slow and hesitant.

“sana,” you began, but she shook her head, cutting you off.

“i just need time to think,” she said, her voice trembling as she backed toward the door. “i’m sorry.”

and then, without another word, she turned and left, leaving you standing there, your heart in pieces as the weight of everything finally settled in: you lost her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the days that followed sana’s sudden departure were heavy with silence. you tried to keep yourself busy, immersing yourself in work and spending more time with lisa, but there was no escaping the thoughts that raced through your mind. you replayed the last conversation over and over, wondering if you had said too much, wondering if you should have kept your feelings buried like you had for years. you wondered if sana would ever come back to you or if you had finally pushed her away for good.

meanwhile, from the other side of the city, sana was on her own journey.

that night, after leaving your apartment, she had walked aimlessly through the bustling city, her thoughts tangled in a mess of confusion and fear. the rain had started to fall, soaking her through, but she didn’t care. all she could think about was you — your confession, the look on your face when you told her that you had been in love with her for years. it was a truth that had shaken her to her core, forcing her to confront feelings she had buried deep inside herself.

sana had always been someone who prided herself on knowing exactly what she wanted. in her relationships, she had always been in control, choosing partners that seemed to fit the mould of what she thought she needed. yet it had never worked out.

every relationship she’d had, no matter how promising it seemed at first, had eventually fallen apart. she had chalked it up to bad timing or simply not finding the right person. now, with everything that had happened between you, it all started to make sense.

for the first time in years, sana allowed herself to reflect on all those moments you had been there for her — every time she had called you in the middle of the night after a breakup, every time you had listened to her rant about the latest guy who didn’t understand her, every time you had picked her up, emotionally and literally, after things fell apart.

you had been her constant, the one person who never wavered, who never asked for anything in return. she realised that she had always turned to you, even when she was in a relationship, because deep down, she had always trusted you in a way she had never trusted anyone else.

then there was lisa.

she couldn’t explain the jealousy she felt at first. it had confused and frustrated her, making her feel things she didn’t want to acknowledge. now, as she looked back on it, she understood why it hurt so much to see you with someone else. lisa wasn’t just another person in your life; she was someone who had taken a piece of you that sana had always assumed would be hers.

the truth was, she had never seen you with anyone else because, in her mind, you had always belonged to her. not in a possessive way, but in the way that two people who are meant to be together belong to each other, even if they haven’t figured it out yet.

the days passed, and sana’s thoughts became clearer. she realized that she had been selfish, taking your friendship for granted, not understanding the depth of what you had given her. she thought about the way you had always been there to pick up the pieces of her life, even when you had nothing left to give. you had given pieces of yourself to make her whole, and she hadn’t even noticed.

standing on the edge of losing you, she saw it all so clearly.

no matter how many boyfriends she had, no matter how many times she tried to find love elsewhere, nothing ever felt right because it was always supposed to be you.

and now, she needed to make things right. she needed to tell you what she had been too afraid to admit.

one evening, after a long day of pacing her apartment and rehearsing what she was going to say, sana found herself outside your door once again. her heart pounded in her chest as she raised her hand to knock, her mind racing with a thousand different thoughts.

what if it was too late?

what if you didn’t want to see her?

she knew she had to try. she couldn’t let fear keep her from telling you the truth any longer.

you opened the door, your eyes widening in surprise when you saw her standing there.

“sana,” you said softly, your voice laced with hesitation. “i didn’t expect to see you.”

she swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “can i come in?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

you nodded, stepping aside to let her in, though the tension in the air was palpable. you hadn’t seen her in days, and the weight of everything that had been left unsaid hung between you like a heavy cloud.

she paced the room for a moment before finally stopping in front of you, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides. she took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to find the right words to explain everything she had been feeling.

“i’ve been thinking a lot,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “about what you said…about us.”

you said nothing, waiting for her to continue, your heart pounding in your chest.

“and i realised…i’ve been so blind,” she continued, her eyes flickering with emotion as she met your gaze. “i didn’t see it before, now it all makes sense.”

“what makes sense?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid to hope, afraid to let yourself believe what she might be saying.

“you,” she said simply, her voice filled with sincerity. “you’ve always been there for me. every time i fell apart, every time something went wrong, you were the one who picked up the pieces. and i didn’t even see how much you were giving up to do that. you’ve given me so much of yourself, and i’ve taken it for granted.”

you felt a lump form in your throat as her words sank in, the weight of everything you had been holding inside for years finally starting to lift.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “i’m so sorry it took me this long to see it, to see what’s been right in front of me all this time. i was so focused on finding the right guy, on trying to make things work with people who weren’t meant for me, that i didn’t see that the person i’ve been searching for…it’s been you all along.”

your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

“sana…” you start to say, but she shook her head, stepping closer to you, her eyes filled with raw emotion.

“i was jealous of lisa because she had you,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “because she was getting to be with you in a way that i never let myself even think about. i didn’t want to admit it, but the truth is i’ve always had feelings for you. i’ve just been too scared to face them.”

she took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she reached out to take yours.

“i love you, y/n,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “not just as my best friend, but as more. i’ve loved you for so long, and i didn’t even realise it. and i’m so sorry it took me this long to come around, to see what was right in front of me.”

you felt tears slip down your cheeks as her words washed over you, the weight of years of unspoken feelings finally being released. “i love you too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “i’ve always loved you.”

sana’s eyes filled with tears as she pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as if she were afraid to let go.

“i’m so sorry,” she murmured into your shoulder. “i’m sorry for hurting you, for not seeing you sooner. but i’m here now, and i’m not going anywhere, my love.”

you held her close, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and joy. after all the years of waiting, all the heartache, all the unspoken feelings that had weighed you down, sana was finally here. she had finally come back to you.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

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brunchable · 2 months ago

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Captivate Me | Stalker!Bucky Barnes x f!reader. [R 18+]

Word count: 23.6K (oops) Pairings: Obsessed Bucky Barnes x Movie Star Reader. Summary: You've been seeing Bucky for a while. You thought meeting him was pure fate but little did you know every single detail was premeditated. Trying to end things with him would be the greatest mistake of your life. Themes/Warning: SMUT OVER 18s ONLY. Dark Romance, slow-burn STALKING, KIDNAPPING, A LOT OF MANHANDLING *DUBCON?* BDSM (Blindfolded, Bed Restraints), Daddy Kink, Masturbation (M), Filming during sex, domineering acts, degradation, praising, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral (M+F), overstimulation, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampied. A/N: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK ROMANCE. It is giving Joe Goldberg. Also Bucky speaks Romanian here, I used google translate. Please don't come at me.

A/N: AGAIN IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK ROMANCE, MOVE ON.

I’ve seen you in a thousand different ways, in a thousand different roles, but none of them—none of them—compared to the real thing. You, walking out of that boutique gym, wiping sweat from your forehead like it wasn’t some holy ritual. You didn’t know I was watching. You never do. That’s the thing about being the most famous actress in Hollywood, isn’t it? People only see the surface, the glitter. The carefully curated perfection. But not me. I see the real you. The one behind all that.

When I first saw you, it wasn’t planned. Not exactly. I mean, I knew I’d see you eventually. I made sure of it. The gym, the coffee shop, your early morning run route that you think is private. I don’t leave things to chance. I orchestrate them. And you—oh, you walked right into my world, didn’t you?

You smiled that smile, the one that makes directors fall to their knees for a chance to cast you. But when you smiled at me, it felt different. Real. Like we were speaking a language only we understood.

It wasn’t hard to make you like me. It never is. I’ve done my homework. I know what you need, what you crave. Stability. Someone who gets it, gets you, in a way that all the shallow, empty faces in your world never will. I became that someone for you, carefully crafting each word, each look, until you were hooked.

It’s funny, the little things you let slip. You think you’re so careful, but I see it. The way your shoulders relax when I talk about my “well-paying job,” when I drop hints about my “family's” holiday home. You like that, don’t you? You like that I’m different from the men who chase you for clout or connections. No, I’m something else.

You didn’t realize I’d planned our first date down to the minute, did you? Or the second, and the third. You thought it was all so natural. You thought it was just happening. Like we were meant to meet, to be together, to be something special. That’s the thing about fate, though—it’s just another tool. And I wield it perfectly.

It didn’t take long for you to fall for me, just like I knew you would. After all, I’m everything you need. Smart, kind, successful—or at least, that’s what you think. I’m whatever you need me to be. So when I suggested a weekend away at my “holiday” home, you said yes. Hesitant, but yes. You must’ve thought it would be a nice escape. Just us, away from the world that always wants something from you.

Except, you didn’t know it wasn’t an escape at all. It was a step closer to where we were always meant to end up.

That’s what I kept telling myself as we stood in the kitchen of that house, the rain drumming softly against the windows. I poured you a glass of wine, said something about how perfect it all felt, about how right we were together. And you—you just stood there, silent, your eyes distant. Something had shifted.

Then you spoke.

“Bucky,” you said, and my heart stopped because I already knew what was coming. “This is going too fast.”

The words hung in the air like poison. I felt my pulse in my throat, the warmth of the kitchen suddenly stifling.

“I don’t think I see a future with us,” you continued, and each word was a dagger. You tried to soften the blow with that sweet voice of yours, telling me I’m a “great guy,” that it’s “nothing personal.” Nothing personal? How could it not be personal?

You know, I’ve always been good at controlling myself. That’s one of the things you liked about me, isn’t it? How I’m always so calm, so collected. You don’t want the chaos, the mess of Hollywood drama in your real life. No, you want stability, something solid, someone who can be your anchor in the storm of flashing lights and fake smiles.

And I gave you that. I am that. I’ve been perfect for you—perfect in every way.

So why—why are you standing here, telling me that it’s going “too fast”?

The words echoed in my head, making it hard to focus. You kept talking, kept explaining, but it was like I couldn’t hear you anymore. My mind was racing, my chest tightening with something dark, something unfamiliar.

No, no, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say it’s too fast when I’ve been so patient, so careful.

You have no idea how long I’ve waited, how meticulously I’ve crafted every single moment between us. Every word, every smile, every touch. This is what we’re supposed to be. You can’t just walk away from that. You can’t just throw it away.

I could feel it bubbling up inside me, the rage, the frustration. It started small, like a flicker of heat behind my eyes, but it was growing, spreading, filling me with something raw and dangerous. I tried to keep it in check, tried to swallow it down. I didn’t want to scare you. That’s not what this was about. This was supposed to be perfect.

But you kept talking, kept saying things that made it worse. Words like “future,” like “great guy,” like “nothing personal.”

Nothing personal? Again.

How dare you? How dare you make it sound like I’m just another guy, like I didn’t plan every single moment of our time together? You think this isn’t personal? You think I’m just going to let you go like all the others? No.

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to hold it in, trying not to let you see what you were doing to me. But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t shut up. And then you said it—that one final thing that broke me.

“I just don’t feel the same way.”

There it was. The truth, out in the open, sharp and jagged like broken glass. And something inside me snapped. I could feel it, like a wire pulled too tight finally giving way. My pulse thundered in my ears, my breathing shallow and ragged. You didn’t get it. You didn’t see how much I’d done for us, how much I’d sacrificed. You didn’t understand how perfect we could be if you just—just—

I slammed my hand down on the counter next to you, the sound slicing through the air like a gunshot. You jumped, startled, your eyes wide with fear as you flinched, taking a step back from me.

And that—oh, that—was new.

Fear. Real, genuine fear appeared in your eyes like you were finally seeing me for the first time. I should’ve hated it. I should’ve backed off, apologised, done something to make it go away.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Because part of me—some dark, twisted part of me—liked it. I liked that you were finally seeing me. The real me. Not the carefully crafted version I’d shown you before, but the one who needed you, the one who couldn’t stand the idea of losing you.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re scaring me.”

I blinked, the words cutting through the fog of anger, but they didn’t have the effect you wanted. Scaring you? No. No, you’re not scared of me. You’re scared of losing control, scared of what it means to be with someone like me, someone who actually cares enough to make sure you stay.

But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I watched you take another step back, your hands trembling slightly, your eyes darting to the door like you were planning to run.

I watched the fear ripple through you, your breathing quickening, your eyes scanning the room like you were calculating the distance to the door. Like you thought you could just run. Like you actually thought you could escape me.

But you can’t.

No, we’ve come too far for that.

I took a step toward you, slow and measured, watching the way you flinched, the way your body tensed like a deer ready to bolt. I didn’t want to hurt you—I didn’t. But you were leaving me no choice. You were making this hard, when it didn’t have to be. I didn’t want it to be this way.

“Bucky…” Your voice was small, fragile. You were trying to reason with me, but it was too late for that. Too late for words. The world outside, the life we had before stepping into this house, it was all fading away. It was just us now, just the truth between us, raw and unfiltered.

“You don’t understand,” I said, my voice low, my hand still pressed firmly against the counter. I could feel the cool granite beneath my palm, grounding me, barely holding back the storm inside. “This is right. We are right for each other. You just… you just don’t see it yet.”

Your eyes darted toward the door again, that brief flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could get away. I could see it in the way your muscles tensed, in the way your feet shifted like you were getting ready to run. And I hated it—hated that you still didn’t understand.

I moved faster than you expected, my hand reaching out to grab your arm before you could make a break for it. You gasped, your eyes wide with terror as I pulled you back, your body colliding with mine. You struggled, kicking, twisting, trying to break free, but I was stronger. I’d always been stronger.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, your voice shrill, panicked. But I didn’t let go. I couldn’t.

You don’t get it. You can’t leave.

“Stop fighting,” I growled, pulling you closer, your back pressed against my chest. I could feel your heart hammering beneath your skin, the rapid rise and fall of your breath. You were terrified, and part of me—some dark, primal part of me—thrived on that fear. But another part of me hated it. I didn’t want you to be afraid. I wanted you to see that I was doing this for us.

“Please, Bucky… you’re hurting me.”

Those words. They cut through the fog of anger, piercing something deep inside me. My grip loosened for just a second, just long enough for you to break free, to twist out of my hold and make a desperate run for the door.

And you did it.

You yanked the door open, sprinting out into the rain like your life depended on it. You were fast, I’ll give you that.

Desperation makes people faster.

Your bare feet slapped against the wet pavement, splashing through puddles as you made your way to the car. You thought you were getting away. You thought you were winning.

I followed, just a few paces behind. I let you think you had a chance. Let you scramble to the driver’s side door, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the handle. You were soaked, the rain plastering your hair to your face, but you didn’t stop. You threw open the door, slipping into the car, your fingers trembling as you searched for the keys.

But I was there. Right behind you. And you didn’t have the keys, did you?

“Bucky, please!” you screamed, your voice high and panicked, but it didn’t matter. I yanked the door open before you could lock it, my hand reaching in and grabbing your arm with a force that made you cry out.

You kicked. You screamed. Your nails clawed at my hand, your legs thrashing as I dragged you out of the car, but you weren’t strong enough. You were never going to be strong enough.

“No!” you shrieked, your voice cracking as I hauled you back toward the house, the rain pouring down around us. You fought me every step of the way, your feet slipping in the mud, your body twisting, trying to break free.

But I didn’t let go.

I couldn’t.

“You’re not leaving,” I growled, my voice barely audible over the storm, my grip tightening as I dragged you back inside. Your body was limp now, weak from the struggle, but your eyes—oh, your eyes were still filled with that same fear.

We’re not done. We’re never going to be done.

Not until you see it.

Not until you see me.

× × × ×

Your POV

You wake slowly, your head throbbing, the world around you blurry and disorienting. The sound of the storm outside reaches you first, the rumble of thunder vibrating through the walls, the rain pounding relentlessly against the windows. You blink, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The sheets beneath you are soft—too soft—and they smell like detergent, unfamiliar.

That’s when you feel it. The cold metal around your wrists.

Panic surges through your veins as you jerk upright, or at least, you try to. Your hands are cuffed to the bed, the harsh clink of metal echoing in the dimly lit room as you struggle against them. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear hitting you like a wave, choking you as you realize—this isn’t a nightmare.

Your breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, your chest heaving as you take in the room. It’s dim, lit only by the soft, flickering glow of a bedside lamp, the corners of the room swallowed by shadows. You’re not in the same clothes you remember. You’re dressed in something clean now, something soft, but it’s not your own. Someone…he changed you.

And then you see him.

Bucky.

He’s sitting in the corner, hidden in the shadows, watching you. His silhouette is dark, unmoving, and it sends a chill down your spine. The storm outside feels like a reflection of the chaos inside your head, the way everything is spinning, nothing making sense.

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and when you finally manage to choke out his name, it sounds small, pitiful.

“Bucky?”

He doesn’t respond. He just keeps watching, like a predator studying its prey. Like he’s waiting for you to say or do something, but you don’t know what. Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might burst out of your chest. The fear grips you tighter with every second that passes, the realization of your situation crashing down on you like the thunder outside.

“I… I don’t understand.” Your voice is trembling, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you tug helplessly at the cuffs, the metal biting into your skin. “Why are you doing this? Let me go, please.”

Still, he says nothing. The silence stretches on, oppressive, suffocating. You can feel his eyes on you, piercing through the darkness, and it makes your skin crawl.

You don’t recognize this man, not anymore. The Bucky you thought you knew, the one who smiled at you over dinner, the one who laughed at your jokes, who held your hand… that Bucky is gone. Or maybe he was never real to begin with.

“You’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the tears finally spill over, sliding down your cheeks. “Please, just let me go. I won’t— I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I just want to leave.”

His figure shifts slightly in the chair, the movement so subtle you almost miss it, but it feels like a thunderclap in the tense stillness of the room. Finally, he speaks, his voice low, dark, carrying with it an edge of something you don’t want to name.

“You need to stop thinking of escape,” he says, his words measured. “I’m not your enemy, I’m the one saving you. And one day, you’ll understand that.”

Your stomach drops. There’s something final in the way he says it, something that makes you realize there’s no reasoning with him. No escape.

You’re trapped.

A sob escapes your lips, your body shaking as you pull at the cuffs again, but it’s no use. The storm outside rages on, the wind howling like some terrible omen, and you can’t help but wonder if anyone—anyone at all—can hear you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as Bucky stands up from the chair, his silhouette dark against the dim light. His movements are slow, and you can’t tear your eyes away from him as he steps out of the shadows. Something glints in his hand, and when he comes closer, you see it.

Your phone.

He’s holding your phone.

Bucky twirls it in his hand like it’s some casual toy, but the sight of it makes your stomach churn. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze fixed on you, and a slow smile spreads across his lips—not the warm, charming smile you once knew, but something colder, calculated.

He takes a step closer, then another, until he’s standing right next to the bed. His presence looms over you, the phone still in his hand as he looks down at you, handcuffed and helpless.

“So,” he says, his voice smooth, unsettlingly calm. “What should you post tonight? Hm?”

You stare at him, your mind racing, trying to make sense of the words. Post? He can't be serious. He wouldn’t—

Bucky’s eyes flicker down to the screen, and with a swipe of his thumb, the display lights up. “You wouldn’t want people to think you’ve gone missing, would you? That might cause a… panic.” He smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

Your throat tightens, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to spill over again. You shake your head, more in disbelief than as an answer. He’s playing with you, toying with the very thing that connects you to the world outside this nightmare. And the way he’s handling your phone, so casually, makes it clear—he’s already thought this through.

“Maybe a picture of your feet by the fire?” he muses, tilting his head as if he’s considering the best angle. “Or better yet, one of those ‘cozy night in’ captions. That’ll sell it. Everyone will think you’re just relaxing after a long day. Just another night for Hollywood’s sweetheart.”

His words send ice through your veins. He’s already planned it all out, how to keep up the illusion that you’re fine, that nothing’s wrong. No one will even suspect you’re missing. No one will come looking for you.

You try to speak, to find words, but your voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper. “Please, Bucky, don’t—”

But he ignores your plea, his eyes focused on your phone as he pulls up your social media app. “Smile,” he says mockingly, as though you’re some doll he can dress up for show. “Or don’t. I can manage this on my own. I’ve been watching you for long enough to know exactly what your fans want.”

You feel the tears slip down your cheeks, helplessness gripping you as he takes control of your life in the most terrifying way possible. The world outside keeps spinning, oblivious to the fact that you’re trapped in this nightmare, and he’s holding the one lifeline that could save you, dangling it just out of reach.

“Don’t worry,” he continues, his voice a twisted mockery of comfort. “I’ll keep everyone updated. No one will know anything’s wrong. Not until you’ve had time to understand why you’re really here.”

And as he taps away at your phone, the storm rages on outside, but inside this room, it’s the calm before the real storm—the one you know is coming but can’t escape.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

The thing about phones—your phone, to be specific—is that they’re intimate. More intimate than a diary, more personal than any conversation you’ve ever had. Every swipe, every message, every like, is a little breadcrumb leading back to the real you. The parts you don’t share with the world. And here I am, with your phone in my hand, holding every piece of you in the palm of mine.

I can feel your eyes on me as I scroll through it, your fear practically radiating off you in waves. But I ignore it. I’ve already moved past that phase, the part where I worry about what you’re thinking. You’ll come around eventually, once you see that I’m doing this for us.

For you.

The soft glow of your screen illuminates my face as I unlock it easily—your passcode was one of the first things I learned about you. A four-digit combination, barely a barrier, really. I swipe through your photos first, and there’s a strange comfort in seeing the world through your eyes. Pictures of sunsets, candid moments with co-stars, perfectly posed selfies for your millions of followers. Each photo carefully curated for the world. But I keep scrolling because I know that’s not all there is.

And then I see it. A photo you took of me.

It’s not staged, not some posed couple’s picture for social media. It’s real. I’m asleep—my head turned slightly to the side, my face peaceful, unaware. You took this when you thought I wasn’t watching. The corner of my mouth twitches up, and I can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. You couldn’t resist, could you? Even when you didn’t know it, you were drawn to me.

This proves it. We’re connected. Whether you want to admit it or not, you feel it, too. I wasn’t wrong.

I glance up from the phone, just for a moment, to see you watching me, your eyes wide, terrified. You have no idea how much I know, how deep inside your world I already am. I almost want to say something, to tell you how this photo means something. How it confirms that we’re meant to be. But I stay silent, letting the moment stretch between us, savouring it.

I keep scrolling. And that’s when I find them.

The unsolicited photos.

You thought you were careful, that you’d buried them in your messages. But nothing stays hidden from me. A flood of messages from random men—pathetic, desperate attempts to get your attention. Men sending you things you never asked for.

Filth.

Unworthy of even a glance from you. The sheer arrogance of it, the entitlement, makes my blood simmer. How many of these men thought they had a chance with you? That they could own a piece of you like I do?

One particular message stands out. A man whose name I don’t recognize, someone you’ve never mentioned. He’s sent you photos of himself, explicit, disgusting. And you—you didn’t block him. You didn’t stop it.

I stare at the messages longer than I should, the jealousy curling tight inside my chest, sharp and poisonous. These men, they think they can have you, that they can come into your life with their disgusting offers and expect something in return. You might not have invited them in, but the fact that they’re here at all makes me sick.

You should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me to take care of this for you.

I glance back at you, still handcuffed to the bed, tears slipping down your cheeks, and I wonder if you even understand what’s happening here. These men, they aren’t a part of your life anymore. I won’t allow it. You’re mine now. Completely. There won’t be anyone else.

I keep scrolling through your messages, and that’s when I find something else.

A text thread with your friends. The casual banter, the kind of stuff you think I don’t care about. But buried in there, a series of photos you sent them. I pause, my heart speeding up as I open them.

It’s me, of course.

One picture in particular stands out—a shot of me shirtless in the kitchen, cooking you breakfast. The light catches my body just right, every muscle defined. And your caption underneath?

“Okay, so you can’t see his face but look at this man. Just look at him.”

You wanted them to see me. To know what you had. You wanted them to be jealous. And they probably were. I smile to myself, imagining the envy your friends must have felt, knowing that you had me, knowing they couldn’t. It’s perfect. You knew I was perfect for you.

I scroll further down the thread, and that’s when I see the message that makes me pause, my breath catching in my throat.

“You guys, I swear to god… he’s so good in bed, I think I’m addicted. Like, I don’t even know how to describe it. I’m wrecked in the best ways.”

Addicted. Addicted to me. And you thought I wouldn’t know. You thought you could hide that, that you could pretend to push me away when deep down, you crave me. You need me.

I can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across my face as I look back at you. You’re trembling, still terrified, but you don’t understand that this—this fear, this desire—it’s all part of the same thing. You don’t have to run from it anymore. From me.

I scroll just a little further and see the final blow. Another photo. This time, it’s intimate. Private. A photo you snapped of me sleeping on top of you, my body nestled against yours, my head buried in the crook of your neck. The angle is careful, my face mostly obscured by my dark hair, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness in that moment. I can feel the warmth of it through the screen.

And then the message beneath it.

“Okay, don’t judge me, but… when Bucky speaks Romanian when we do it... it’s so hot. Like, I can’t even handle it. I don’t even want a kid but I'll carry his kids. Fuck. He’s so hot.”

I feel something inside me snap—not with anger, no, but with something far deeper. You want this. You want me. You’ve been telling your friends, letting them know how much you crave me, need me, even if you didn’t say it out loud to my face. But now? Now I know. And there’s no denying it anymore.

I set the phone down on the edge of the bed and lean closer, my voice low, calm, almost affectionate. “You know,” I murmur, “I never realized how much you needed me. But now I see it. Now, it all makes sense.”

You flinch, pulling back as far as you can, but there’s nowhere to go. Not from me.

“What should you post tonight, hm?” I ask, my tone conversational, like this is any normal evening between us.

The horror in your eyes is enough to confirm it—you finally understand. You’re not going anywhere.

Because you’re mine. And no one—no one—is going to take you away from me.

× × × ×

I bring the dinner to you, carefully plated, as always. Presentation matters. Even now, when you’re too stubborn to appreciate it, too blinded by your own misplaced anger to see that this—this—is still me taking care of you.

I set the tray on the bed beside you, the smell of the meal filling the room. You’ve always liked the way I cook, haven’t you? I remember how you used to smile, used to praise the smallest details, like I was doing something so special.

But now, you sit there with your jaw clenched, body stiff, refusing to look at me, refusing to even acknowledge that I’m here, still trying to make sure you’re okay.

“You’re going to eat,” I say softly, but there’s a firmness beneath the words. It’s not a request, not a suggestion. I’ve been patient with you—so patient. But you’re pushing me now, testing the limits of my control, and we both know that can only last so long.

You scoff, turning your head away from the food like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’m not your prisoner, Bucky. You can’t force me to do anything.”

The defiance. That familiar fire burning behind your eyes. I should be frustrated, I should be angry, but honestly? I find it... cute. You’re still trying to fight me, still clinging to the idea that you have some say in this. I lean closer, my hand resting gently on the bed beside you, my voice dropping just enough to let you know I’m not here to argue.

“You are going to eat,” I repeat, my tone calm but unyielding. “Because I’m not going to let you starve yourself.”

You snap your head back to me, your eyes flashing with rage, and for a second, I see the storm building in you.

“You can’t make me,” you growl, and it’s almost laughable—the way you think you still have control, still have some semblance of power in this situation.

Then, without warning, you spit at me.

The action is so quick, so fueled by your desperation, that for a moment, I’m surprised. The spit lands on my cheek, sliding down slowly, almost in slow motion. And there it is. The fight. The fire. The part of you that still hasn’t fully surrendered.

You tense, your body going rigid, your breath caught in your throat as you wait for me to explode, for the rage to consume me and lash out. This is the part where you expect me to lose it. To become the monster you’ve built up in your head.

But I don’t.

I freeze for just a second, letting the anger stir inside me, feeling it twist and coil. But then, instead of reacting the way you expect, I chuckle. A low, quiet laugh, the sound barely audible over the storm outside. I don’t wipe the spit away. I just sit there, letting it cool on my cheek, my lips curling into a small, almost amused smile.

“I like this,” I murmur, my voice calm, disturbingly calm. “This fight in you. It’s… adorable.”

You flinch, recoiling slightly as you realize I’m not going to snap. I’m not going to lose control, because unlike you, I’m not driven by desperation. I don’t need to. No, I have all the control I need, right here, in this room, with you handcuffed to that bed. I can see it in your eyes—the confusion. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect me to remain calm.

I lean in just a bit closer, my face only inches from yours now, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You think you can push me, don’t you? That if you fight hard enough, I��ll lose control. But that’s not going to happen. You’re not going to break me. You can’t.”

You’re trembling now, the tears welling up in your eyes, but I don’t feel pity. No, this is something else entirely. This is... satisfaction. You want to fight, but you’re scared, too. And that mix? That’s what makes this so interesting.

I straighten up, slowly wiping the spit from my cheek with the back of my hand, my eyes never leaving yours. “Go ahead. Keep fighting. It doesn’t change anything. I’m still in control. You’ll still eat. You’ll still do what I say.”

Your lip quivers, but you remain silent, glaring at me with all the defiance you can muster. But I can see the cracks forming. I know that deep down, you understand.

“Now,” I say, standing up and moving back toward the corner of the room, watching you carefully. “When you’re ready to eat, the food will be here. And I’ll be right here, too. Always.”

I sit back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, my eyes never leaving you. You still think you can win this. But you can’t. You never could.

And the fact that you haven’t realized that yet? Well, that’s just adorable.

× × × ×

Your POV

The next day.

You wake up to the steady drum of rain against the window, still unrelenting, like the world is stuck in an endless loop of storm and shadow. The room is dim, gray light filtering in through the heavy clouds outside, casting long shadows that stretch across the floor. Something’s different, though. You blink slowly, trying to clear the haze of sleep.

Your wrists. They’re free.

No cuffs. No cold metal biting into your skin. You sit up cautiously, the blankets tucked around you. . . comfortably. Like some twisted lullaby, as if you’d been tucked in after drifting to sleep in the middle of a nightmare.

And the first thing you notice? Bucky isn’t here.

Your heart thuds in your chest, your body still stiff with the memory of yesterday, the taste of panic still lingering like bile in your throat.

You scan the room carefully, trying not to make any sudden movements as if you might wake the predator lurking nearby.

The chair he always sits in—the one where he watches you—is empty. No sign of him. No footsteps, no steady breathing that you’ve come to expect as the constant reminder of his presence.

Where is he?

The food tray from last night is gone. Cleared away. The bed you’re sitting in feels too normal, too cozy, like some trap waiting to spring. You can’t trust it. You can’t trust anything. Your eyes move to the door. It’s slightly ajar, just a crack, and there’s an unnerving stillness in the air. The house is too quiet.

You slide out of bed, your bare feet sinking into the carpet. Your muscles are tense, ready, every nerve on edge.

You step closer to the door, careful, listening for anything—footsteps, breathing, a creak of the floorboards. Nothing. Just the sound of the rain.

Your hand touches the doorknob, ready to push it open, when you hear it—a soft thud from down the hall.

Your body freezes, every muscle tensing as you strain to hear. The sound is subtle, distant, but unmistakable. A shuffling, like something—or someone—moving just out of sight.

He’s close.

You open the door cautiously, peeking out into the hallway. It’s dark, barely lit by the gray daylight seeping in from the windows. The house feels alive, as if the walls themselves are watching, breathing. The unease settles in your stomach, cold and heavy. You swallow, your throat tight, and take a step forward.

Another noise. A door creaking open further down the hall.

Your breath catches. Your feet hesitate. But you move forward, each step more careful than the last. Your heart races, every instinct screaming for you to turn around, to hide. But you can’t. You need to know where he is.

And then, you stop.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, and there—just inside—you see him.

Bucky.

He’s standing in front of the sink, his back to you. His hands are braced against the counter, his head slightly lowered, as if he’s… thinking. You freeze in place, watching him, your body paralyzed by the tension hanging thick in the air. He doesn’t know you’re here, not yet. He hasn’t heard you.

You could run. You could turn around right now, slip back into the bedroom, and pretend you never saw this. But something about the way he’s standing there—so still—keeps you rooted to the spot.

He moves.

Slowly, he straightens, his shoulders rising as he takes in a deep breath. He turns his head slightly, just enough that you catch the edge of his profile. And then, he speaks.

“I know you’re awake.”

Your stomach drops, a cold wave of dread washing over you.

“I was waiting for you,” he continues, his voice smooth, calm, like he’s talking about the weather. “But I guess you were planning on coming to find me instead.”

You feel the blood drain from your face, your heart pounding in your ears as he turns to face you fully, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a calmness in his expression that unnerves you more than anything else. He isn’t angry. He isn’t surprised.

He knew.

He knew the whole time.

× × × ×

The moment his eyes meet yours, you don’t think—you bolt.

Your feet barely hit the ground as you turn and bolt down the hallway, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, the sound of your breath ragged in your ears. Every muscle in your body screams to run, to get as far away from him as possible. You know he’s behind you. You can feel it, the tension stretching between you like a taut wire, ready to snap. But you don’t look back. You can’t.

The stairs are ahead, a sharp descent into the unknown, but they’re your only option. Your hand grips the bannister as you take the steps two at a time, your mind racing just as fast. You can hear him moving behind you, not in a rush, not in a panic. No, his footsteps are casual by the way they echo in the hallway above.

You hit the ground floor, your bare feet slipping on the cold tiles, but you manage to catch yourself. You have to hide. You have to be smart. If you don’t, he’ll catch you, and you know exactly what happens if he does.

You dart around the corner, your eyes scanning the room desperately. The house feels like a maze, twisting, unfamiliar. You’ve been here before, but in the haze of fear, everything feels different, distorted. You spot a door—a small one, leading to what looks like a pantry—and no hesitation you dash inside, pulling the door shut behind you.

Darkness swallows you whole, your back pressed against the wall, your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your shaky breath.

The air feels thick in the tiny space, every sound amplified. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and you try to force yourself to stay calm. Think, think, think.

The silence stretches out, so thick you can almost hear it. And then—

You hear him.

His voice, soft, almost melodic, drifting through the house like a twisted lullaby.

“Y/N…”

Your body goes rigid. He’s calling for you, like this is some kind of game. A cat and mouse game. He’s playing with you, drawing it out, savoring every second of your panic.

“Where are you?” His voice echoes through the house, sickeningly sweet, and you can hear the smile in it, the amusement. Like this is a joke. Like you, running is nothing but entertainment for him.

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, trying to think of what you can do next, but every plan, every thought dissolves into pure terror as his footsteps get closer. The sound of his shoes on the floor is slow. He’s not in a rush. He knows you’re here. Somewhere.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

He sings your name again, drawing it out, each syllable rolling off his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of it. You bite your lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, your hands trembling as you clutch the inside of the door. You can’t breathe, can’t move. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode in your chest.

You hear him moving through the house, his voice drifting through every corner, getting closer, then further away.

“You know I’ll find you…” His words are light, teasing, but beneath them lies something dark, something terrifyingly final. “I always do.”

His voice drifts through the hall, teasing, playful, as if this is all just fun for him. The sound of it makes your blood run cold, but you don’t move. You can’t. You tell yourself to stay calm, to think, to be smart. He wants you to panic. He wants you to break. Don’t.

The footsteps draw closer. You hear the soft creak of the floorboards just outside the door, and your body goes rigid. You can feel him on the other side, waiting, listening. You brace yourself, every nerve in your body on edge, ready for him to rip the door open and drag you out.

But he doesn’t.

There’s a long, agonizing pause. You hear him exhale softly, almost as if he’s amused. His presence lingers there, so close you can feel it through the door. The seconds stretch on, unbearable.

And then, he moves. The footsteps retreat, growing fainter, until you hear them no more.

You don’t move. You don’t breathe. You wait, your body coiled tight, every muscle aching with the tension.

He’s gone, you tell yourself. He walked away.

You listen carefully, straining your ears for any sound—nothing. Just the rain. He’s somewhere else in the house, looking for you.

The silence presses down on you, thick and suffocating. You tell yourself you have to move, that this is your chance. You wait a minute longer, then two, your hand still covering your mouth as you count the seconds.

He’s gone. He’s not there anymore.

Finally, you exhale slowly and shift your weight, your legs cramped and trembling from holding still for so long. You push the door open an inch, peeking out into the hallway.

Empty.

The hallway is bathed in pale, gray light from the rain-soaked windows. No sign of him. Your pulse hammers in your ears, but you push the door open fully now, stepping out as silently as you can manage. The house feels too big, too quiet.

Maybe I can make it. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

You take a cautious step forward, your eyes scanning the empty corridor. Another step, careful, quiet. The air feels cold against your skin, the house eerily still, like the eye of a storm.

You glance in both directions. The hall is empty.

He’s gone.

You make it halfway down the hallway, moving toward the back of the house, your breath coming in shallow huffs. You take a step, then another, your movements calculated and soundless, trying to map out your escape. Each second feels like a victory, a step closer to being free of him. You are smarter than him. You can outthink him.

As you move, you walk backward for a moment, keeping your eyes on the hallway behind you. You don’t trust it—why would you?—so you check, making sure he isn’t sneaking up on you. Your back presses against the wall for stability as you inch toward the exit, ready to make your move.

And then—you feel something.

Something warm. Something solid. Your entire body goes rigid as you feel it—him.

You freeze, terror gripping you before you even have a chance to process the situation. Slowly, painfully slowly, you turn your head, knowing exactly what you’ll see.

Bucky.

He’s standing right behind you, closer than you ever imagined he could be, his chest pressed against your back, his breath steady. How did he move so silently? How did he manage to be right here, right on top of you, without a single sound?

Your heart slams against your ribcage as you try to pull away, but his hand is already on your arm, gentle but firm, holding you in place. The smile on his face is unsettling, a mixture of amusement and something far darker. He knew. He always knew.

“You were trying to sneak away, weren’t you?” His voice is soft, too soft, like this is all just a lighthearted conversation between two people who aren’t trapped in a nightmare. “I could feel it.”

His fingers tighten around your arm, not painfully, but just enough to remind you that he’s not letting go. That he sees you, even in your cleverness, even in your silence.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I like that. But quiet doesn’t mean I won’t find you.”

“I was just…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, but it catches in your throat. You can feel him watching you, his eyes scanning your face, reading every thought before you’ve even formed it.

“Just what?” he asks, his tone almost playful, like he’s toying with you, like this is nothing more than a game. His fingers brush your skin, tracing lazy circles, and it sends a wave of nausea through you.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your mind is racing, but the words won’t come.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against the side of your neck, and you can’t stop the way your body tenses, every nerve screaming with terror.

“I told you, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the rain. “I’ll always know where you are.”

Your breath catches, and you feel his hand shift, sliding down your arm, fingers curling around your wrist. He pulls you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you, suffocating.

You want to scream, to pull away, but you know it won’t do any good. You’ve been clever, careful—but not enough. You underestimated him.

You force yourself to breathe, to think through the thick fog of panic that clouds your mind. Every instinct screams at you to do something, anything to get away, but Bucky’s grip is firm, his presence all-consuming. His hand is still around your wrist, holding you in place, as if you belong here. As if there was never a question of where you should be.

“I see that look,” he murmurs, his voice so low it almost blends with the sound of the rain. “You’re thinking. Calculating.”

You swallow hard, your heart slamming against your ribs. Of course, you’re thinking. You’re always thinking. You’re looking for the smallest crack in the situation, the tiniest escape route. But he knows. He sees it in you.

“You always think you can figure me out, don’t you?” His breath tickles the side of your face, and you flinch, trying to pull away even though you know it’s futile.

Your mind races, but his presence is like a cage, keeping you trapped, making every idea seem impossible. You can feel the tension tightening, every second a countdown to whatever he’s planning next. His thumb moves in circles over your wrist, a gesture that might seem comforting if it weren’t so... controlling.

Then he releases you.

The sudden absence of his grip is jarring. You stumble backward a step, your body instinctively retreating, but you catch yourself before you fall. You stare at him, shocked that he’s let go, that he’s giving you space.

Bucky just smiles, watching you. He's toying with you, letting you think you have a chance when deep down, you know he’s still in control.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice soft and measured. “But you have to stop running. You’re making this harder on yourself.”

Your skin prickles with dread as you try to process his words. He’s letting you go, but it’s not real freedom. It’s a leash—an invisible one, stretched just enough to let you feel like you’re in control. But he’s still holding the end of it, ready to pull you back the moment you step too far.

You stand there, frozen, every muscle in your body screaming to run, but your mind knows better. He’s faster than you. Stronger. More dangerous.

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to make a move, to see what you’ll do next. And you know, whatever you do, he’ll be ready.

“I can wait all day,” he says, tilting his head slightly, as if he’s genuinely curious about what you’ll choose. “But you won’t make it far.”

Your mouth goes dry as you take a shaky breath, your eyes darting to the door, the only possible exit. The rain is still hammering down outside, loud and relentless, but it’s the only thing between you and whatever comes next.

But you know if you run now, it’ll be exactly what he wants.

So, you make a decision.

Instead of bolting, instead of giving in to the panic rising in your chest, you take step forward. Toward him.

His eyes flicker with something—surprise? Amusement? You can’t tell—but it doesn’t matter. You’re not playing the game the way he wants you to anymore. You’re taking control, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Then stop pretending this is some game,” you say, your voice steady, even though you feel anything but. “What do you want?”

He takes a step closer, closing the distance you just created, and you can feel the tension coil between you again, tighter than before.

“You know what I want,” he says softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You don’t dare break it, waiting for him to speak, to reveal the thing that’s been lurking in the shadows between you both since the moment you met. The way he’s looking at you now, with that dark, unreadable intensity, makes your skin crawl. Your question hangs in the air, and you can’t tell if he’s stalling, or if he’s just savouring the moment—savouring you.

Then he leans in, just a fraction closer, his voice lowering to that chilling, intimate whisper that makes every nerve in your body scream for you to run.

“What I want,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “is simple. I want you to stop fighting it. To stop pretending this isn’t what you need. What you want.”

You stiffen, your pulse skyrocketing, because it’s not the answer you were expecting. There’s a raw edge to his words, a dangerous undertone that tells you he’s been thinking about this for a long time—planning it.

“I want you to see that this, us—” he gestures vaguely between you, his eyes never leaving yours—“is inevitable. You can run, hide, resist, but you’ll always end up right. back. here.”

You feel a chill run through your veins as his words sink in. He doesn’t just want to keep you here, doesn’t just want your compliance. He wants your submission. He wants you to accept this twisted reality he’s created, to fall in line with whatever fantasy he’s been building in his head.

Your breath hitches, but you manage to hold his gaze, even as your mind reels with panic.

“You’re insane,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. “This isn’t love, Bucky.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” he says softly, his smile returning, more dangerous than ever. “But I know you, Y/N. I’ve watched you. I’ve studied you. And you can’t hide from the truth forever.”

“I know what you need,” he whispers, his voice softer now, almost... tender. “And when you finally stop running, when you stop fighting it, you’ll see it too.”

Your chest tightens, your mind racing to find something—anything—to say that might break this twisted spell he’s trying to weave. But you know, deep down, that no matter what you say, he’s already convinced himself that this is real. That you are his.

And that’s when it hits you.

What he wants isn’t just to keep you here, to cage you like some prize. He wants you to choose it. To accept him, this situation, this twisted version of love he’s built in his mind. He wants you to believe it, to fall into his arms willingly.

But you won’t. You can’t.

“I’ll never give you what you want,” you repeat, your voice defiant, even though the fear tightens in your chest. “I’ll never see this the way you do.”

For a moment, the silence between you thickens. You think maybe he’ll finally snap, maybe this will be the moment he loses control. But instead, his smile deepens, and the amusement in his eyes takes on a sharper, more sinister edge.

“Is that right?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “Because, according to your texts... that’s not what you’ve been telling your friends.”

Before you can even process his words, he’s already pulling out your phone again, holding it between you like a trophy. His thumb glided over the screen, his eyes flickering with the satisfaction of someone who’s about to wield power in the most insidious way.

“Let’s see what we have here, shall we?” he murmurs, not even looking at you as he pulls up your messages. “Ah, here’s a good one.”

He clears his throat theatrically before reading aloud, his voice dripping with false amusement. “He’s got this look when he’s on top of me. Like, I swear, it could melt your soul. I think I’m done for.”

Your stomach turns as the words leave his lips, each syllable twisting into something vile as he quotes your own words back to you. You remember sending that, of course. You’d been giddy, drunk on lust and naivety, texting your friends in a moment of bliss that feels a lifetime away now.

Bucky’s eyes flick to you, watching your reaction with that same unsettling calm. “Done for, huh?” he teases. “That’s not exactly the defiance you’re showing me right now.”

You clench your fists at your sides, trying to steady your breath, but he’s already scrolling again. His thumb pauses, and he smirks as if he’s found something even better.

“Oh, this one’s great,” he says, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Is he big?” he reads with a dramatic pause, glancing at you. “Girl, you have no idea. Let's just say I’m not getting out of bed anytime soon.”

Heat floods your face, not with the memory, but with the sheer horror of hearing him say it out loud. Your body goes rigid as the humiliation washes over you, but Bucky—he just chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he says, the smugness in his voice unbearable. “It’s good to know I’ve been leaving an impression.”

He swipes again, his smirk growing. “Let’s see... oh, what’s this?” His voice takes on an almost sing-song quality as he reads the next one. “He’s so attentive, it’s like he knows what I want before I do. Honestly, I think he’s perfect. He’s in my head, like... all the time.”

Your throat tightens, and you force yourself to look at him, your heart thundering in your chest. He’s savouring every moment of this, twisting your words into a weapon, using them to deepen his control over you.

He steps closer, eyes glinting, before reading the next one. “There’s something about him... something that makes me feel like I could lose myself. In a good way. Like, I don’t even care anymore. I just want him.”

He leans in, his breath grazing your ear as he whispers, “You just want me, huh? It seems like the girl who wrote this was much more open to the idea of us.”

You jerk your head away, disgusted by how easily he’s taken everything private, every vulnerability, and turned it into another chain to bind you with. You grit your teeth, but he’s still scrolling.

“One more,” he says with false sweetness, pausing for effect as he reads the final message. “I think I’m falling for him. For real. He’s just... I don’t know. He makes me feel safe, like no one else ever has.”

He lets the words hang in the air, his smile fading just a little as he watches your reaction.

“And that,” he says softly, “is the part I like the most.”

His voice lowers, his face inches from yours now. “You felt safe with me. And you know why? Because deep down, you want to. You want to believe I’m the one who can protect you, give you everything you need. And I will. You just have to stop fighting it.”

Your stomach twists as his words sink in, as he lays bare the twisted reality he’s built around you. He wants you to choose this, to let him be the one who controls everything. And he’s using your own desires, your own words, to manipulate you.

Your pulse is pounding in your ears, his infuriating chuckle echoing through your bones, and you can’t stand it anymore. The phone—the embodiment of everything he’s stolen from you—dangles just out of reach, held by his towering frame like it’s a toy, a prize he knows you can’t win.

Your teeth grit, hands curling into fists. The room feels like it’s shrinking, the air too thick to breathe. He’s mocking you. Smiling. Enjoying this.

“Give it to me!” you spit, your voice sharp and desperate, the words cutting through the tense air like glass.

His smile widens, the amusement in his eyes deepening, like your demand only adds fuel to his fire. He raises the phone higher, just enough to make you reach again, to make the gap between you and your freedom feel all the more impossible.

“What was that?” he teases, voice calm, soft—almost too soft. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

You take a step forward, pushing against his chest with all the force you can muster. “I said give it to me!” You try to leap, your fingers brushing against the edge of the phone, but he pulls it back effortlessly, his hand now resting on your waist as if steadying you—as if you need his help.

His chuckle rumbles low, and it makes your skin crawl. “Y/N…” he says, dragging out your name, the amusement thick in his voice. “You really think you can just take it? Like it’s that simple?”

You shove harder against him, your breath coming in short, angry bursts, trying to wriggle free from his grasp, but his hand stays firm on your waist, not letting you get any real distance. “It’s mine! You don’t get to—”

Before you can finish, you jump again, practically climbing him in your attempt to grab the phone. You’re fully pressing against his chest now, using every bit of strength you have, your body coiled with frustration and fury as you reach for the device. But it’s no use. His arm is longer, his height an insurmountable barrier.

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that insufferable grin, his free hand catching your waist to stop you from going any higher.

“Keep trying, sweetheart,” he whispers, his breath brushing against your skin as you struggle. “But you’re not going to get it.”

His voice is patronizing, soaked with amusement, and it only makes you more desperate, more furious. You plant your feet harder, pushing up with all your strength, but he doesn’t even move. You’re climbing a wall that won’t budge, and the realization stings.

“Give. It. To. Me.” Your voice is tight, angry, each word spat out through gritted teeth as you dig your nails into his arm, still trying to claw your way up, but the phone remains out of reach.

He’s barely even trying to stop you, just lifting the phone higher, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he holds you in place. His chuckle deepens, a low rumble of satisfaction.

“Why are you fighting so hard for something that’s already mine?” he asks, his voice laced with cruel amusement. “These words... you gave them to me. You already handed me your trust.”

You try to twist out of his grasp, your breath catching in your throat, but his hand stays firm, his body unyielding.

“You don’t own me,” you snap, your voice shaking with both rage and humiliation. “You don’t get to decide—”

His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you back down to the ground, your feet slipping on the floor as you stumble back, breathless and furious. He pockets the phone slowly, as if to remind you that it’s not going anywhere.

His eyes meet yours, dark and amused, his voice low and taunting. “Oh, I’m not deciding anything,” he murmurs, his smile twisting. “You already did.”

Bucky stands over you, tall and unyielding, his shadow looming, making the space around you feel smaller, tighter. His lips curl into that same infuriating smirk, the one that makes your blood boil and sends a thrill of something you don’t want to acknowledge coursing through your veins.

“Asshole,” you mutter again, glaring up at him, refusing to let him see the fear—or worse, the heat—burning inside you.

His eyes gleam with amusement. He kneels slowly, bringing himself to your level, but still towering over you in that way that makes you feel completely trapped, even as you’re free to move.

“What was that?” he asks softly, his voice barely a murmur, though you know he heard you the first time.

You hate how your body betrays you, hate that he knows it too. You bite your lip, trying to steady yourself, to not let him see how much he’s rattling you. But he’s watching you, every small movement, every flicker of emotion that crosses your face.

You try to push yourself away from him, to put some distance between you, but his hand tightens on your waist, just enough to keep you in place.

“Say it again,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear now, sending a jolt of something electric through your body that you wish wasn’t there.

“I said you’re an asshole,” you snap, louder this time, your voice sharp and angry.

He chuckles, low and dark, and the sound makes your skin prickle with a mix of fury and something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“I like it when you fight,” he murmurs, his voice soft and teasing, his breath warm against your neck. “It’s cute.”

The heat of his breath on your skin makes you shudder involuntarily, and you grit your teeth, trying to suppress the way your body reacts to him. You want to shove him away, to regain some semblance of control, but your body feels frozen, caught between the urge to push him back and something else entirely. Something you refuse to admit is there.

“Let me go.” you manage, but your voice falters, quieter than you intended, betraying you.

He doesn’t let go. Instead, his hand slides up your side, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His fingers brush against your ribs, the touch light but possessive, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you really want me to?” he whispers, his lips now barely an inch from your neck. His words send a shiver racing through your body, and you grit your teeth, determined not to let him see how much he’s affecting you.

“Bucky...” you start, trying to sound firm, trying to hold onto the anger that’s slipping through your fingers, but your voice falters as you realise how close he is, how the heat between you is suffocating.

He smirks again, his thumb brushing over your waist in a way that sends an involuntary tremor through you. “You can say my name all you want,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that makes your stomach twist. “But we both know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Your body tenses at his words, both from the insult and the way his hand moves, as if he’s unravelling you, piece by piece. You try to pull back again, but his grip tightens just enough to remind you that you’re not going anywhere.

“You think you’ve got me figured out?” you snap, trying to regain some ground, some sense of control.

He chuckles again, that same low, maddening sound that sets your nerves on edge.

“I know more than you think,” he says, his hand moving higher, his fingers brushing against the curve of your ribs now, his touch sending sparks through your skin. “You’ve been trying to fight this from the beginning, but we both know where this is going.”

The space between you is shrinking, the heat between your bodies unbearable, and you can feel the tension pulling you in, your body betraying you in the worst possible way. You bite your lip, trying to focus, to remember why you hate him, why you should be pushing him away.

But he’s so close now, his lips barely a breath away from your skin, and you can feel his words more than hear them as he leans in, his voice a whisper that sends a tremor through your entire body.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck, and for a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe, as the world narrows to just the two of you.

You should push him away. You want to push him away. But instead, you’re sitting there, heart racing, torn between the anger burning inside you and the heat building between you. And Bucky knows it. He sees it in your eyes, in the way your breath catches, and that only makes his smirk grow wider.

“Just admit it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitches, your fists clenching as you fight the urge to react, to give him the satisfaction. But the tension between you is unbearable now, suffocating, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep fighting it.

Bucky tilts his head to the side, his eyes dark and hooded, slowly drifting down to your lips. His lips are so close to yours now, hovering millimetres away, teasing you, taunting you with the possibility of something more.

But he doesn’t close the gap. He just hovers there, waiting, watching your reaction, drawing it out. His smirk deepens, satisfied, as if he’s savoring the way you’re teetering on the edge, caught between your instinct to pull away and the pull of something undeniable between you.

Your mind races, the rational part of you screaming to shove him away, to stop this before it goes any further. But your body—your traitorous body—responds to the heat between you, every nerve alight, betraying the internal conflict waging within you.

"You're holding back," he whispers, his voice low, taunting, the words vibrating in the air between you. His breath brushes your skin, so close you can almost feel his lips move against yours, but still, he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of closing the distance.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to keep your expression defiant. “You think I’m just going to give in?” you uttered firmly.

Bucky’s smirk grows. He’s not just playing with your emotions; he’s studying you, every breath, every reaction.

“I think you like this,” he murmurs, his voice as smooth as silk, the words wrapping around you, making it harder to breathe. “This tension between us, this fight. You crave it.”

His lips are so close you can almost taste the heat of him, but he continues to hold back, leaving you on the brink, trapped in the space between resistance and temptation.

“You’re wrong,” you manage, though your voice falters slightly, betraying you. You hate that he’s gotten this far, that he’s managed to chip away at your defenses, but you refuse to let him see just how much he’s affecting you.

“Am I?” he whispers, his lips hovering so close to yours you can barely stand it. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, pulling you closer, but still, he keeps you waiting, holding you in this unbearable tension.

He leans in again, his breath ghosting over your lips, his voice a soft murmur. "I can feel it, Y/N. You're on the edge. Just let go."

Your heart pounds in your chest, every

Bucky watches you for a moment longer, eyes narrowing as if he’s weighing your silence, calculating your resistance. Then his smirk returns, a little darker this time, as though he’s decided something in that moment.

"You’re going to see it my way," he murmurs, his voice low, full of certainty. "And I’m going to prove it to you."

His arm wraps around your waist firmly, and before you can react, you’re lifted off the floor. Your breath catches as he throws you over his shoulder with ease, like you weigh nothing. You let out an involuntary gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing at his back, trying to steady yourself as your body hangs over him.

“Bucky!” you protest, your voice sharper now, but it’s drowned out by the sound of his footsteps as he starts walking back toward the stairs.

“Shh,” he says softly, his tone almost playful, but there’s an edge to it, a finality that makes your stomach twist. “You’ll thank me later.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you’re carried back toward the bedroom. You push against his back, but his grip doesn’t loosen, and the casual strength he holds you with only makes your pulse race faster.

You struggle against him, trying to twist out of his grasp, but he only tightens his hold, his voice calm, unbothered. “Fighting me only makes it harder for you, Y/N.”

Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as he carries you up the stairs, the panic and tension growing with each step. You know where he’s taking you, and the thought of being trapped in that bedroom again sends a chill through your body.

“Put me down!” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear, but Bucky only chuckles softly.

“Oh, I will,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm.

You feel your body shift slightly as Bucky pushes open the door to the bedroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and your heart pounds in your ears as you realise there’s no escaping him now.

"Put me down!" you demand, trying to keep your voice steady, though every fiber of your being is on high alert.

Bucky throws you onto the bed with effortless strength. The world spins for a split second, and you land with a bounce, the mattress swallowing your weight. You gasp, disoriented, struggling to regain your composure as you push yourself up on your elbows.

Bucky stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with that same infuriating confidence, his smirk widening as he watches your reaction.

"You—" you start, the anger rising in your chest, but before you can finish, he interrupts you, his voice filled with mock innocence.

“What? You told me to put you down,” he says, shrugging casually, as if tossing you onto the bed was the most natural thing in the world. His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s an edge beneath it—a dark undercurrent that makes it clear he’s still fully in control.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, caught between the absurdity of his reply and the tension hanging thick in the air. His casual playfulness only heightens the unnerving sense of power he holds over you, as if even your resistance is something he finds amusing.

You narrow your eyes at him, refusing to let him see just how rattled you are. “You know exactly what I meant,” you snap, keeping your voice firm, even as your pulse quickens under his unrelenting gaze.

He tilts his head, feigning innocence again, that infuriating smirk never leaving his lips. “I just follow instructions, doll,” he says, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes tell a different story—dark, dangerous, and full of intent.

You sit up straighter, fighting the feeling of vulnerability that creeps over you, and meet his gaze with unwavering defiance. "You’re not as clever as you think," you say, keeping your tone sharp.

His smirk widens, and he steps closer to the bed, his movements slow, he’s savoring the tension between you. "Oh, I think we both know how clever I am," he replies, his voice dropping to a smooth murmur.

You sit up slightly, propped on your elbows, your pulse quickening as he approaches. Bucky moves swiftly, his hands coming down on either side of you, caging you in. His body looms over yours, and the mattress dips under the weight of him, pinning you in place.

The sudden proximity steals the breath from your lungs, and your eyes dart up to meet his. The intensity of his gaze hits you like a physical force, his pupils are blown wide, dilated. His face is so close now that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, his presence suffocating, overwhelming.

He doesn’t move. Neither do you.

You’re hyper aware of everything—his hands gripping the mattress on either side of you, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the intoxicating scent of him invading your senses.

You try to look anywhere else, anywhere but where his gaze is leading you. But it’s impossible. His stare pulls at you, like a gravitational force, dragging you into his orbit. And all you can think about is how close he is. Too close. Your heart thuds in your chest, each beat louder than the last, echoing in the silence between you.

Your eyes flicker—just for a second—down to his lips.

You curse yourself instantly for it, but it’s too late. He noticed. Of course he noticed. His smirk deepens, barely perceptible, but you feel it like a jolt of electricity. That knowing look, that arrogant satisfaction that he’s in control, and you’re fighting a battle you can’t win.

You force your eyes back up, meeting his once more, desperate to regain some sense of control, some measure of defiance. But the tension between you is unbearable now, thick like a vice tightening around your chest. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room, leaving only the charged space between your lips, the millimeters separating you from him.

Every nerve in your body is on edge, bracing for something you’re not even sure you want to resist.

Bucky leans in just a fraction more, his lips hovering so close to yours that the distance is almost unbearable. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady, and for a moment, you’re not sure if it’s your heart or his that’s pounding in your ears.

You try—desperately—not to look at his lips again, but it’s like trying to ignore gravity.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. The silence is louder than any words he could say. You know what he’s waiting for. He’s waiting for you to break, to give in to the pull you’ve both been fighting for what feels like forever.

Your hands clench at your sides, every muscle in your body tight with the effort of holding back, of not giving in to the dangerous allure of his proximity. But it’s so hard to breathe, so hard to think when he’s this close, when his eyes are this intense, when his lips are right there, almost touching yours.

And just when you think you can’t hold out any longer, that you’ll snap under the pressure of the moment, Bucky’s voice cuts through the silence, low and husky, barely above a whisper.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his breath brushing your lips, sending another shiver down your spine. “Don’t look away.”

You think about defying him, about turning your head and breaking free from the suffocating tension. He was on top of you, all that hard muscle pinning you down to where you couldn’t move. You could feel him everywhere, especially his cock, which was thick against your belly. Fighting him only turned him on, and now you were thinking about sex.

And you hate that he’s right.

Just when the air feels too thick to breathe, he pulls away.

The shift is sudden, leaving you lying there on the bed, breathless and confused. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you can’t quite make sense of what just happened. One second, he was so close—too close—and the next, he’s stepping back, putting space between you.

You blink, trying to catch your breath, your mind scrambling to process the whirlwind of emotions and sensations that have left you dizzy and disoriented. The heat from his body lingers on your skin, but his absence feels colder than you expected.

Bucky stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you, his face now unreadable. The smirk is gone, replaced by a cool, detached expression that makes your stomach churn. It’s as if the moment you shared—the one that left you teetering on the edge—never happened. His eyes, once dark and intense, are now distant, cold.

“Be a good girl and stay there,” he says, his voice flat, authoritative. There's no teasing in his tone now, just a command.

The words hang in the air, and you find yourself frozen, unable to move, unsure whether it's from the weight of his command or the confusion swirling in your chest. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that he’s pulled back, leaving you stranded in the wake of something you didn’t quite understand—and maybe weren’t ready for.

He doesn't wait for a response, doesn't check to see if you’ll obey. He simply turns, walking away, leaving you lying there on the bed, torn between the need to push back and the sinking realisation that he’s still in control, no matter how much space he puts between you.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

There’s a moment when power shifts—when control is no longer just something you hold, but something you feel, deep in your bones. I see it in your eyes, the flicker of confusion, of vulnerability, as I step away from the bed. You think you understand what’s happening, that you have a handle on your own defiance, but the truth is, you’re already exactly where I want you. And isn’t that the beauty of it?

The tension between us was intoxicating, wasn’t it? The way you looked at me, fighting the pull, the temptation, the inevitable. I gave you space to breathe, to think. But now, it’s time to decide what comes next.

I step out of the bedroom, the door closing behind me with the softest click. You probably think this is your moment to regroup, maybe catch your breath, wonder where I’ve gone. But, let’s be honest, I’m never really gone, am I? I’m in your thoughts right now, circling your every breath, every heartbeat, while you lie there and try to pretend you can fight this.

I move down the hallway, not in a hurry. I savor this, the anticipation hanging in the air between us. When I reach the room, it’s quiet. Still. Organized. Everything in this space has been meticulously laid out, prepared for this moment. Choices, all of them deliberate. I don’t rush this, because why would I? I like to take my time. And you? You’ll feel that patience in every step I take.

I look over the table, where everything is waiting. The blindfold catches my eye first. Simple, soft. It’s always the smallest things that strip away the most control, isn’t it? You rely on your sight, that sense of security you have when you can gauge what’s coming, what I’m doing. The blindfold removes that. You’ll be left with nothing but the sound of my voice and the weight of your own breath. Your heart will race faster the moment it goes dark. You’ll feel it—your world narrowing, closing in.

But there’s more. My fingers brush against the bed restraints. These are designed to remind you of something fundamental: the boundaries I set are not negotiable. No matter how hard you might try, these restraints are proof that you’re not getting away. You’ll strain against them, at first, testing your limits, feeling that surge of defiance before you realize just how futile it is. That moment, when your body gives in to the restraint—that’s when you’ll understand that the control was never yours to begin with.

I pick them both up—the blindfold in one hand, the restraints in the other. But before heading back to you, I stop, glancing at myself in the mirror in this room. The tension in the air, the power of what’s coming next, calls for something more. Something raw. I remove my shirt, letting it fall to the floor. The cool air hits my skin, but it does nothing to temper the heat building inside. This isn’t just about control anymore; it’s about presence. Dominance.

× × × ×

YOUR POV

The door creaks open slowly, and you’re already on your feet. You don’t know what your plan is—if you even have one—but lying there, waiting like some docile thing, that’s not you. You can feel the tension in your legs, every muscle taut as you stand by the bed, trying to control your breathing, trying to look like you’ve made a conscious decision, even though the truth is, you don’t know what you’re going to do next.

And then he appears.

Bucky steps back into the room, shirtless. His bare chest catches your eye, the light cutting sharp angles across his skin, emphasizing every line of muscle. For a moment, it steals your breath. Not because of how he looks—but because it’s another calculated move. He’s always thinking, always pushing, and now this is about more than just words or actions—it’s about his very presence. It fills the room, like he’s claiming the space itself.

Your eyes instinctively flick down to his hands. He’s holding something—dark fabric and... yes, restraints. The blindfold dangles from his fingers, the soft black material barely catching the light. The restraints, sleek and unyielding, swing lightly from his other hand.

And then he notices you.

He stops, just inside the doorway, and for a moment, the air between you shifts. His eyes darken, and you catch the subtle frown that pulls at the corner of his mouth as he takes in the fact that you’re no longer on the bed. The smallest hint of irritation flickers across his face, quickly replaced by that cool, composed exterior. But it was there. You saw it.

Good.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he considers you, and for a moment, neither of you move. It’s a silent standoff, and you can feel the weight of his disapproval pressing against you.

But then, a slow, exhale leaves his lips, and his expression shifts. He takes a step forward, his gaze never leaving yours. His frown is gone, replaced by something colder, more calculating.

“You’re out of bed,” he says, his voice low, calm, but there’s an edge to it, as though he’s daring you to explain. “Lie down.”

You don’t. You stand your ground, refusing to retreat, even though your pulse is hammering in your chest. You know this won’t change the inevitable, but you’re not going to make it easy for him.

“Don’t fight me,” he whispers, his voice low and smooth. “It will be easier for you if you don’t make trouble.”

“But I like trouble,” You said without thinking.

You hadn’t thought about how this would come across, though. Your vpice thick with defiance, you realize what you’ve done. You’ve just challenged him. Again.

His expression went hard, a little scary. “I will give you the count of three. If you’re not in bed before then, there will be consequences.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. He isn’t bluffing.

Your gaze flickers down to his hands, and you see them—the blindfold, the restraints. He’s holding them loosely, his fingers flexing as if he’s already deciding exactly how to use them.

“One. . .”

He takes a step forward, his eyes locked on you, his presence overwhelming in the small space. You feel your pulse spike, But you stand your ground, glaring back at him, the fire of your own defiance still flickering even as fear claws at your throat.

“Two. . .”

The sound of the second number sends a rush of panic through you. He’s not going to wait much longer. You know that. But you can’t bring yourself to back down.

“Three.”

The word comes out soft, but the weight behind it is crushing. He doesn’t give you time to react. His hand moves in a blur, reaching for you, and before you can take a breath, he’s closed the distance between you, his grip firm but not painful as he grabs your wrist.

The blindfold and restraints in his other hand hang there, a silent threat, a promise of what’s to come.

“You made your choice,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, his face inches from yours, and the dark amusement in his eyes is gone now. “Now, you'll have to deal with the consequences…” He pauses, his gaze flickering over you, and a wicked smile curls on his lips. "And trust me, sweetheart, you're going to feel every single one of them."

And you know, as he pulls you toward the bed, that this game is over.

But the consequences? They’re just beginning.

“No!” you grunted, you bucked and kicked out with your legs, hoping like hell you caught him in the junk, “Get off me!”

Bucky barely flinches, his grip tightening as he maneuvers effortlessly to pin you down. The way he handles you—strong, unyielding—sends a fresh wave of panic through your body.

“Nice try,” he mutters, his voice calm, controlled, that terrifying composure still in place. “But it’s going to take a lot more than that to stop me.”

His hand moves swiftly to your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it with ease. You feel the smooth leather strap, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s threading it through the buckle.

You buck again, a surge of panic flooding your chest, but his knee presses firmly into your legs, pinning you down. He moves quickly, efficiently, pulling your arm to the side as the leather restraint tightens around your wrist with a sharp pull.

The soft creak of leather is the only sound as he secures the second strap to your other wrist, buckling it in place, leaving you spread wide, helpless. Your chest heaves with the effort, but it’s too late—the leather holds fast, unyielding.

"See?" he says, his voice low, that dangerous smile tugging at his lips again. “You can fight all you want, but it’s only going to make this more interesting for me.”

“I hate you!”

He didn’t answer as he strode toward the end of the bed. His strong naked chest was distracting in the greyness of daylight, with a myriad of scars and rough marks criss-crossing his skin like a road map. This was a cruel man, unyielding and unafraid of violence.

You pressed your lips together when he produced a set of the same restraints at the foot of the bed.

Oh, shit.

Bucky grabbed your ankle and worked the cuff over your foot.

“You don’t need to do this,” you rushed out, bargaining.“I’m not going anywhere.” Thanks to the wrist restraints.

The cuff pulled tight on your right leg. Satisfied, Bucky moved to the other side and you started taking deep breaths, fighting the urge to kick and fight. What was he planning? Why did he need you spread-eagle on the bed?

When you were tied down, he climbed onto the bed, his muscles shifting as he crawled between your thighs, and your nerves twitched and twisted in your belly. This wasn’t good.

He stops in front of you and slips the blindfold over your eyes, plunging you into darkness. Your breath hitches, and you feel a surge of panic rising in your chest. You try to pull away, he grabs your chin, holding you in place.

You can feel the heat of him, the way his body is so close to yours, and it makes you feel trapped, helpless. Every sense is heightened now that you can’t see. Every sound, every movement, every touch feels amplified, and you hate it. You hate how vulnerable you are.

With a swift, almost ruthless motion, Bucky grabs the delicate fabric of your nightgown, and in one clean, forceful pull, it rips in half. The sound of the tear echoes through the room, loud and raw, the fragile material giving way under his hands. The shredded pieces dangle from his fingers for a brief moment before they fall to the floor, discarded.

His palms slid up your thighs and under your nightie and goose bumps broke out all along your skin. “Should I let you come, little girl?” he says, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear.

Heat bloomed in your pussy, those words charged in ways you couldn’t begin to unpack. Was he really going to play the daddy card right now? Fuck. It was like he could see into your mind on how best to manipulate you.

“Don’t,” You pleaded, not even caring that you sounded weak.

He pushed your panties to the side, gently tracing your entrance with his middle finger. “Just as I thought. Wet.” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked your arousal off. “You like that, when I call you little girl.”

“No, I don’t,” You said, your chest heaving with the force of your breath. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Do you ache inside?” He slipped his finger directly into your channel, pressing deep until he was completely seated. Then he curled his finger, hitting a spot that you'd sworn was an urban myth.

Your back bowed off the bed, limbs pulling tight against the restraints, and you bit your lip to stay quiet. You did not want to think about how good any part of him felt inside you, how that finger wasn’t nearly enough.

“Please,” you panted, not sure what you were asking for. He pumped his hand, the friction both delicious and frustrating. Then he added another finger, going slow until it was in, and you whimpered. He’s playing with you, you know it and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“You can feel it huh?” He said, “Your pussy is sucking in my fingers. So greedy. Don’t worry. I am going to take very good care of you.”

You held your breath. You didn’t know what was about to happen. You only knew it was going to be bad. If he teased you, it would be awful. Worse than awful. If he actually pleasured you, if you surrendered to him, it would be humiliating. He would gain the upper hand, and that was what scared you most.

Licking you dry lips, you forced out, “I don’t need you to take care of me. Let me take care of you instead.”

He pumped his fingers lazily, in and out, in and out, dragging against your sensitive tissues. You inhaled sharply, the pleasure streaking through you like lightning.

“Hmm keep telling yourself that.” He said like he doesn’t believe you, because he actually doesn't.

Your body strained toward the source of that bliss, chasing it and making a liar out of yourself.

“Yes, I do. If you just—please—don't.” You could barely keep track of the conversation as he fucked you with his fingers.

“Hear how wet your pussy is for me?” The slick sounds filled the bedroom and you wanted to die of shame. He chuckled.

“Go fuck yourself!” you snapped, hoping your words would have some bite.

“Why would I? When you're right here, dripping and ready for me?” Bucky murmured, then flicked his tongue unexpectedly over your clit. You tried to keep your expression from revealing anything you were feeling, but when he twisted and pumped at the same time, you moaned deep in your throat.

Then he started eating you out. He licked and sucked like you were a meal and he was starving, his attention focused on your clit, swirling and sucking, and you suddenly knew what you had been missing out on all these years. Using the flat of his tongue, he massaged your clit, then drew it into his mouth to suck on it, again. At the same time, he strummed your clit with his tongue, rubbing and pressing. Bucky mastered your body in seconds, like some sort of pussy wizard, because you were instantly on the verge of coming. Your thighs started shaking and your lungs couldn’t pull in air.

And he stopped.

You gasped, lurching, you tried to bring yourself closer to where you think his face is, where his breath felt hot. You could feel him smirking.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

Your thighs are trembling now, shaking in that way that tells me you're teetering on the edge, every muscle in your body straining. I watch, fascinated, as your lungs struggle to pull in air, your body begging for relief, for release.

And then, I stop.

You gasp, a desperate sound, your body lurching as you try to chase what I've just taken from you. You try to bring yourself closer, your movements frantic, instinctive, as if by sheer will alone. Your head turns, your lips parting, reaching for where you think my face is—where my breath felt hot against your skin moments ago.

But I don't move. I smirk, watching the way your body fights itself, craving more but knowing I control every last part of this moment.

"You're so predictable," I murmur, my voice low, almost mocking, but there's a darkness in it that lingers. "Always wanting more... always needing to be just a little closer, don't you?”

I run my hands down your sides, feeling every tense muscle beneath my fingertips, relishing the way your body responds to even the lightest touch. You arch, trying to make contact, to feel something—anything. But then, my hands lift off you, and the absence of touch sends a ripple of frustration through you. I can feel it, the tension mounting, the need rising higher.

I reach across for the bullet vibrator, my fingers curling around the small device. I press the button, the faint hum vibrating in my hand as I adjust it to the lowest setting. The sound is barely audible over your labored breathing, but you know. You feel what's coming next.

I lean down, my lips brushing your ear, my breath hot against your skin. "You know how this works," I whisper, my voice soft, almost tender. "I decide when. I decide how much. And you? You're going to beg for it."

You can feel the vibration ever so slightly as I circle the air above your lovely hard nipples. I massage the bullet extremely gently around the outer edge of one of your nipples and then do the same with the other. I move it in slow circles, like a promise I’ve yet to fulfil. I can see the way your body responds—tense, trembling, straining for something more.

“You feel that?” I murmur, my voice a low rumble in the quiet room. “Just enough to drive you insane, isn’t it? Just enough to remind you that I hold everything you want in the palm of my hand.”

You shudder, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your body arching slightly as you try to press closer to the source of the vibration. The frustration is written all over your face, and it’s beautiful, so beautiful. I watch you, drinking in every inch of your reaction, savouring the power I have over you in this moment.

“You love it,” I whisper, my breath brushing against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. “You love that you can’t control this. That I can make you beg for something as simple as this.”

“Just... do it,” you gasp, your voice trembling with frustration, but there’s still a spark in it, something stubborn. “Stop playing games.”

I chuckle softly, amused by your words. Stop playing games? Oh, but you and I both know that this is the game, and you’re playing it just as much as I am. You’re caught between wanting more and hating that you have to ask for it, and that’s what makes this so deliciously satisfying.

“Is that what you want?” I ask, lowering the vibrator just a little, letting it barely skim the surface of your areola—just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to satisfy. “You think you’re ready for more? You think you deserve it?”

You grit your teeth, trying to stay composed, but I can see the cracks forming. The frustration, the need. It’s all there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“Please…” you whisper, barely audible, and there it is—that hint of desperation I’ve been waiting for.

I smile, triumphant, and press the button to increase the intensity just slightly, letting the vibration pulse more firmly against your breast.

“That’s better,” I murmur, my voice low, “But I’ll need more than that if you really want it.”

You gasp, your body reacting to the sudden change in sensation, your breath hitching as you bite back another plea. And I know, without a doubt, you’ll give me what I want.

You bite your lip, stifling another sound as the vibrations skate across your skin, and I watch with fascination as you try to maintain your composure. Your chest rises and falls with each laboured breath, but you’re still clinging to that last bit of resistance. You haven’t said it.

The word. The name.

I let the silence stretch out between us, the vibrator humming softly against your nipple, just enough to keep you on edge but nowhere near enough to tip you over it. You know what I want, and I know you’re holding onto it. That delicious defiance. The last weapon you think you have.

But I have all the time in the world.

“You’re holding out,” I murmur, my voice soft, almost a purr. “I can feel it. You’re so close, but you’re fighting it. Why?” I bring my face closer, my breath hot against your neck as I whisper, “You know what will get you what you want.”

You’re fighting me, refusing to give in to the game. I can almost see the wheels turning in your mind—I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Say it,” I murmur, my lips brushing your ear now, the vibration of the toy a steady hum against your skin. “You know what I’m waiting for. Just say it, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Your lips part, and for a second, I think you might give in. But then, through clenched teeth, you growl, “I’m not saying it.”

I raise an eyebrow, amused by your defiance. You’re trying so hard to resist, even though your body is betraying you, trembling under the light touch of the vibrator.

“We both know you want to say it, go on,” I whisper, my voice soft, dark, full of promise. “Say it. Say what I know you’re dying to say.”

You want to give in, but you’re too proud to make it easy. And so, in the smallest, most defiant voice, you mutter, “I don’t need to say it.”

I chuckle softly, shaking my head as I pull the vibrator away for a moment, denying you the one thing you want most.

“Oh, you’ll say it,” I say, my voice calm, certain. “Because you know that’s how you get what you need.”

I reach down, pressing the button again, increasing the intensity just a little more. I bring it close, hovering over your skin but not quite touching. The tease. The torment.

“You want Daddy to make it better, don’t you?” I finally whisper, my voice almost a growl, low and intimate, right at your ear.

You think you can outlast me. You think your silence is some kind of victory, but I can see right through you. The stubbornness is admirable, really. I almost want to let you hold onto it for a little longer. Almost.

But then again, why deny myself the pleasure of watching you break?

I lower the vibrator back down, this time pressing it directly against your nipple—not the teasing, ghosting touch from earlier, but real contact. You moaned, your body arching against the restraints as the sudden sensation hits you, and I press the button again, increasing the intensity. The vibrations pulse through you, low and constant, just enough to drive you crazy.

To see you this turned on and into it at this early stage makes me want to burst. I continue to tease your nipples with the bullet, making you wriggle with pleasure as you lean your head back into the pillow. I watch your beautiful face intently as the vibrations gently massage your nipples—you look amazing— radiant, sexy, fuckable—and I am so excited to have you in this position—but I am taking my time.

I want you to be wetter than you have ever been, have more orgasms than you have ever had and have you moaning more than you have ever moaned.

I lean in, my mouth hovering near your ear, my breath hot against your skin. “You’re close to saying it,” I whisper, my voice low, knowing. “I can feel it. You’re just one word away.”

You grit your teeth, trying to hold on—the way they’re starting to lose focus, the way your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. You’re teetering on the edge, and you know it.

I smirk, watching you struggle, your body trembling under the relentless vibrations, your mind fighting the inevitable.

“Still not saying it?” I ask softly, almost amused. “You think you’re winning by holding out? By staying quiet?”

I tilt my head, studying you, and then my hand moves—slow, deliberate—between your thighs. Whike gently stroking the vibrating bullet down the side of your body, making you wriggle. As I get to your hips, you open your legs further, wanting the vibrations on your clit. I stroke the bullet up from your hip and across the top of your beautifully shaved pubic line, as you thrust your crotch forward, wanting it.

I resist the urge to give you what you want immediately—instead lightly running the bullet down the side of your pussy, being careful not to touch your luscious pussy lips. I position myself in between your legs as the bullet gets closer and closer to your clit. As it edges nearer, I see your pussy glisten from its wetness—oh my God it looks amazing and I love how you have your legs open, allowing me to see it all. How I want to devour it, again—but there is something you need to say first.

You whimper, your body shaking, your breath ragged. I can feel it—you’re so close to giving in.

And then, just as I feel you start to unravel, I pull back. I stop everything. The vibrator, the pressure—it all stops.

You gasp, your body lurching forward, desperate for the sensation to continue. You try to press closer, try to make contact, but I keep my distance, pulling away just enough to leave you hanging in agonising anticipation.

Your body trembles, your frustration spilling over as you try to catch your breath, and I know you’re about to break. You need this, and you know it.

I lean in, my lips brushing your ear, my voice soft but commanding. “Say it,” I murmured, the final push. “Say it, or I’ll stop this right now. I’ll leave you like this, desperate, aching, with nothing.”

Your breath hitches, and I can see the war playing out in your mind. The defiance, the pride—it’s all crumbling beneath the weight of your need. You’re trembling, your body screaming for more, and you know I have the power to give it to you. But you have to say it.

“Say it,” I repeat, my voice a low growl. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

For a moment, I think you’ll hold out just a little longer. But then, with a trembling breath, you whisper the word, barely audible, the last piece of your pride shattering. The bullet is now hovering just above your clit and I slowly press down—I smile satisfyingly and your legs open up further to reveal your lovely wet pussy.

“Daddy…”

I smile, victorious, and without hesitation, I press the vibrator back against you, harder this time, increasing the intensity, my hand moving in sync with the relentless pulse.

“There we go,” I murmur, my voice dark and satisfied. “Good girl.”

The sight is driving me mad—but I am focused on giving you as much pleasure as you can handle. I slowly rub it up and down your clit as the vibrations run through you. You slowly lift your hips forward, wanting the vibrations lower down, which I oblige. The bullet is edging closer to your glistening pussy—but then I reach across and spread your beautiful lips apart with my fingers—and start to brush the bullet up one and then down the other, in circular motions. This is driving you wild as it edges closer to entering you. I move the bullet down ever so slightly so it is resting, waiting to go in—but then move it all the way up to your clit.

The fact you don't know what's coming next is driving you mad—which makes you look even sexier, if that is possible. You’re at the mercy of what comes next, and the fact that you can’t predict it is pushing you to the edge. You hate it, don’t you? But it also pulls you in. It makes you irresistible.

I go to the next level of vibrations and flick the bullet down from your clit, entering you ever so slightly and then move it back up to your clit, vibrating all of your core. As I do this, you open your legs further, now fully relaxed and turned on and let out a sexy moan—wanting more and more.

All that fight, all that defiance, just to end up here? It’s almost poetic. It makes me wonder—how will you explain this to your friends? Will you tell them how easily you gave in, how all that stubbornness melted away? Or will you keep this secret tucked away, something only we’ll know?

For the first time, you try to move your arms down to control the pleasure—but then realise you are tied up and I am in control, and let your arms drop behind agan. It's at this point it is time to take it up a level.

You've always been a freak, haven’t you? I saw the signs, the little hints you thought were so subtle. Makes me wonder if this whole act—the defiance, the resistance—is just your way of pretending you aren’t begging for it. You don’t want control, not really. You want to be pushed to the edge, and I’m more than happy to take you there.

I turn the bullet off, giving you some relief from the pleasure for a few seconds - then lean forward and kiss the inside of your left thigh—moving across to the right thigh—but pause over your wet pussy—my mouth just millimeters from your glistening lips—and let out a breath of excitement that you can feel—then move to your right thigh and kiss the inside.

Jesus—if only you could see yourself right now. I almost want to take a video, something to remember this by, a little keepsake of how you look when you finally let go. And then I remember… your phone’s already in my pocket.

I hover over you, taking my time, savoring the moment. With careful precision, I pull it out and position the phone in just the right angle, the best view of you—completely vulnerable, completely mine.

Maybe you’ll watch this back later. Maybe you’ll see yourself the way I see you now—completely undone, stripped of that defiance you cling to so desperately. It’ll be a reminder, a little piece of this moment that you can never escape. And I’ll watch you realise, all over again, how much you need me.

You shift beneath me, your breath shaky, and then, through the haze of tension, your voice breaks the silence. “What are you doing?” The blindfold makes your tone sharper, more vulnerable—unsure of what’s coming next.

You can’t see me, but I know you’re feeling everything. “Tell me,” you whisper, almost a demand, though your voice trembles at the edges. Even blindfolded, you’re still trying to cling to some control.

“Is that how you ask?” I reply, my voice calm, but with that edge of authority you’re trying so hard to ignore. You tense, knowing exactly what I’m getting at, but you’re stubborn, always trying to hold onto that last bit of control.

I lean in closer, my breath warm against your ear. “You know what I want to hear. Try again.”

Your lips twitched what I think is annoyance, “Daddy, please tell me what you’re doing.”

I lean in, my breath barely brushing your ear, “You want to know what I’m doing? I’m setting your phone right here,” I say, patting the bedside table. “Perfectly positioned. Just in case you want to watch this later—see how you look when you let go.”

You shift beneath me, tense, trying to decipher every sound, every movement. “I want you to remember exactly what happens next,” I continue, my fingers trailing lightly down your side. “Because you asked for this. And now, you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”

You are aching for more—so I reach for the wand, turn it on and apply it directly to your clit, sending new sensations through your body. I am moving the wand back and forth from your clit to your juicy pussy, vibrations covering all of you. As I move it all around your beautiful pussy, I can hear and see how wet you are. The circular motion around all of your pussy is taking you to orgasm—but then I stop suddenly, and you catch your breath.

“No!” you shouted. “Don’t stop. Oh, God.”

I pressed a kiss to your thigh. “Beg me, sweetheart. Beg me to make you come.”

“Why are you doing this to me? You fucking psychopath!”

I know you were right there, hovering on the edge, air sawing in and out of your lungs. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. You wanted to claw my face with your fingernails. I know you’re wanting to crawl into my lap and ride my cock to orgasm.

“Those are not the words. Try again. “Say it and I’ll let you come.”

It is now time to up it again, so I squeeze some pleasure gel in my hand and smother the top of the wand in it. I then grab the bullet and rub more pleasure gel on that too. I now have the wand in one hand and the bullet in the other both vibrating and ready to make you cum. I press the wand gently onto your clit as the bullet slowly enters you, making you take a deep breath and blurt out

“Fuck, Daddy—Please make me come.”

From the look on your face and the words coming out of your mouth, I know you are in ecstasy and it makes my cock throb so much. I ask you to tell me how it feels and you say ‘Amazing, Daddy, please don't stop, I love it.’ Your words and sounds as you take the pleasure turn me on so much.

My eyes darted towards the camera, my eyes communicating: Are you watching? Do you hear yourself?

Your legs are fully open now as I continue to work the bullet in and out of you slowly and the wand on your clit. You are so wet so I decide to switch things up—I take the bullet and gently rub it up and down your clit whilst pointing the wand directly at your pussy. I start to slowly push the wand head against your pussy lips and flick it up and down, the dual vibrations sending you into a frenzy. Oh my God—you look sensational, irresistible—I am in total ecstasy just watching your reactions to the vibrating and your orgasms.

Your legs, spread apart more, trembling mote, and as I slowly pull the bullet back, your pussy pushes it out and a squirt of your juices shoot out at me. I bet you heard yourself yelling as if from a distance, the high so unbelievably good, better than any drug you'd ever tried. It seemed to go on for days but was probably only seconds. As you came down, the shame crept in to replace the euphoria.

I have never heard or seen you do this before and it makes me even harder, if that is possible. It's like unwrapping a gift that you didn’t even know you wanted, but suddenly can’t imagine living without. I almost want to thank you for the privilege—almost. But that would ruin the moment, wouldn't it?

I slowly start to pull the bullet back again, and it happens again—your beautiful pussy pushes out the bullet and squirts your juices all over my hand. I can now see a wet patch underneath you, which drives me wild. The sight of you orgasming, squirting and gushing is almost too much. I wave the wand all around your soaking wet pussy, juices gushing out of you as I do. I turn the bullet and wand off and just sit there looking at your pulsating and dripping wet pussy and then your gorgeous face as you recover. I am in total awe—

I glance down at the mess you’ve made, my lips curling into a slow, almost proud smile. “Well, would you look at that,” I murmur, teasing, with a hint of mockery. “Miss perfect, always so put together, now completely… undone.”

I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, enjoying the way you squirm at the sound of my voice. “It’s almost impressive, really. I never thought you’d let things get this messy. But here you are, all flustered and out of sorts. Makes me wonder if you secretly like it this way.”

I chuckle softly, pulling back just enough to see the reaction play out on your face. “And honestly? I think it's kind of adorable. Watching you, of all people, fall apart like this.”

I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. “I guess being a messy girl suits you.”

You grit your teeth, your voice dripping with frustration as you snap, “Fuck you.” The words hit the air like you’re hoping they’ll cut me, but all I feel is amusement curling in my chest, that familiar, sick satisfaction.

“Ooo, fuck me, huh?” I echo, my voice dripping with mockery, like I’m savoring the taste of your defiance. “That’s adorable. Are you giving me hints?”

You growl in frustration, the sound barely contained, your annoyance bubbling over. I laugh softly, watching you struggle against the moment. “Oh, don’t be mad. I’m just trying to keep up with your subtle suggestions,” I tease, raising an eyebrow. “But I guess someone’s a little touchy, aren’t they?”

The frustration in your eyes behind the black silk only makes the moment sweeter. You’re trying so hard to fight, to stay defiant, but I can see right through it. And it’s entertaining.

Without breaking my smirk, I glance over at the camera on the bedside, locking eyes with it for a moment, letting the weight of this moment be captured.

I turn my gaze back to you, the satisfaction in my smile only deepening. “See? It’s all right here, caught on tape. You’ll thank me for it later.”

I move myself upwards, leaning over you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you pant, every breath shaky and uneven. My fingers trace gently across your cheek, I lean in slowly, my lips hovering just above yours, my breath mingling with yours. I intend for it to be gentle, just a small taste of power, but then—you moved.

You push upward, taking control of the kiss, pulling me into it with a hunger I didn’t expect. For a split second, I freeze, caught off guard by the way you turn the tables, the way stuck your tongue down my throat passionately.

You’re not just reacting. You’re taking.

I am taken aback as I thought you were recovering but then you whisper in my ear, “I need your cock in my mouth whilst you fuck me with the rabbit.”

Insatiable.

I’m frozen, my mind racing to catch up with what I just heard.

“Oh my god…” I murmur, half to myself, the disbelief quickly melting into a slow, satisfied smile. I pull back, just enough to look at you, the amusement and intrigue sparking in my eyes.

I shake my head slightly, chuckling. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” I pause, before I lean in close again, my voice dropping to a low whisper.

“But if you want that…” I tease, my lips brushing against your ear, “you’re going to have to say the magic word.” My smirk deepens, waiting for that final surrender.

“Daddy,” you drawled so seductively, “Please put your cock in my mouth, I want to suck it while I come.”

Music to my ears.

I lean forward and kissed you again, sucking on your tongue. I can see that you want your hands free to feel me, you can hear me unzipping my jeans, the sound of it makes you writhe with excitement—but no, you don’t get to have that privilege yet.

I move to the side of you, on my knees and reach back to get the rabbit, gently stroking it down your chest, in between your tits. As I get near your pussy, I squeeze some pleasure gel all over it and then turn it on, the ears and the shaft vibrating on the lowest setting. I rub the tip downwards on your clit, you tilt your head up as I move forward on my knees and your mouth is already open, waiting for it.

Whilst you are waiting to taste my throbbing rock-hard cock, I slide the rabbit down further, gliding across your wet pussy lips and then I reposition it so the tip is resting against your pussy, ready and waiting to enter you.

As I move my hips forward slowly and my cock starts to enter your eager mouth, I do the same with the rabbit inside your pussy. Inch by inch my cock feels your mouth as the rabbit fills you. The slow rhythm of my cock sliding to the back of your throat and then to the edge of your lips is matched with the rabbit doing the same to your pussy—slow and gentle strokes, all the way in and then all the way out, just resting on your lips. The noises you make as the rabbit enters you fully, the ears vibrating your clit, are sensational and matched by the sight of your mouth wrapped around my cock and arms stretched across the bed, tied helplessly but taking all that I have to give.

You start to speed up sucking my cock, slurping on it, loving it filling your mouth and this is my queue to match that speed and rhythm with the rabbit—you are so wet that it is gliding in and out of you. All the way in and then out again. Still not fast—but not slow anymore—as you rock your head back and then thrust forward, taking all of me in your mouth. You then slow down and lick around my tip, and I do the same with the rabbit, just the tip rubbing around your open pussy. Then you push forward and take my cock, upto my balls, all the way in your mouth and I slowly push the rabbit all the way in you—as far as it can go, the ears in perfect position to stimulate your clit again. You hold me there in your mouth, not moving at all, and I do the same with the rabbit. This is so passionate and sexy—I could shoot my cum down your throat now—but no way.

I continue to match your speed and rhythm with the rabbit, letting you have some control. But now it's time for me to take that control back—and taste your smooth, shaven, delicious pussy. So I slowly and gently slide the rabbit out of you as I also pull my cock out of your mouth. As both leave you, you let out the most gorgeous and sexy moan, and—

Was that a smile?

Oh, I saw it. You tried to hide it, but there it was, slipping through for just a moment. And honestly? That’s a huge turn-on.

I move to the end of the bed, in between your legs, my mouth inches away from your amazing pussy. I can't tell you how gorgeous it is—the mere sight of it makes me want to come. I push your knees as far apart as they can go to admire your soaking wet pussy. I can see your clit bulging, wanting attention. I can see your lips slightly spread apart and shining from your wetness. I follow your lips down, drinking in this magnificent sight —until my eyes lock on to your pussy, which is aching to be filled.

I slowly edge my mouth close to you, and then take one giant lick, from the bottom of your pussy to the top, with the whole of my tongue.

“Oh my f—uck,” you arched wildly against the restraints. You’re so sensitive now, “Bucky—Daddy. . .”

"Please," you whisper, your voice shaky, hesitant, like you’re not sure if you should even say it. But you do. And it’s music to my ears, “I want you. . .”

I tilt my head slightly, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, baby,” I murmur, my tone dripping with amusement, “you want me? I think I need a little more than that.”

I watch you squirm, enjoying every second of your hesitation, savoring the way you’re trying so hard to find the right words. “Come on now,” I add, my voice soft but laced with command. “I need to hear exactly what you want. You’re already begging—why stop there?”

I chuckle lightly, leaning in closer. “Let’s not play shy now, not after how far you’ve come.”

Using my thumb and finger on each side, I prize open your pussy lips. You are so open and I can see you pulsating. You push your buttocks into the mattress, which elevates your pussy ever so slightly—meaning my tongue is at the exact height and pointing directly at you.

“Your cock daddy. . .please, I need to feel you inside me.”

I chuckle, “Soon, my good girl.”

I push my head forward until my tongue enters your pussy, your juices flowing out either side of my tongue. They taste amazing as they ooze into my mouth. I didn’t stop, either, fucking you with his tongue, growling as I held your legs open as wide as they would go.

“You are so wet,” he snarled. “I fucking love it!”

“So good,” you muttered, long past the point of coherence. “Yes, it’s so good.”

The corners of your mouth lifting as you let out a satisfying smile, your hands gripping the slack length of the restraights tightly. The whole sight of you, as well as your wetness and taste is utopia—I never want this to end.

× × × ×

YOUR POV

After a few more thrusts of his tongue, he shifted to you clit, but there was no teasing this time. He licked you ruthlessly, relentlessly, until you began shaking, your hips rocking as you chased a second orgasm. You nearly levitated off the bed when it finally crested, your body splintering apart into a million pieces, destroyed.

“James!” You screamed his name and strained against the ties holding you down as it went on and on, wave after wave of white-hot bliss.

The sudden yank of the blindfold pulls you from the haze you’ve been drowning in. Light filters in slowly, and your vision, still blurry from the darkness, begins to sharpen. The world starts to come into focus, and your eyes immediately lock onto him.

Bucky came up on his knees and began furiously jerking his cock, eyes hooded, mouth hanging open as he grunted. His gaze locked on your swollen pussy until his movements grew uncoordinated, his hips stuttering, and hot jets lashed all over your belly and chest. Like he was marking you.

Oh my god—did the camera catch that?

He squeezed to get every drop of come out of his dick and onto your body, then sat on his haunches, chest heaving. You were covered in him, the liquid cooling on your bare flesh. Pleasured and used by the last man you should ever be attracted to.

Now he was stroking his dick again, the muscles in his arm flexing as he pumped that giant rod between his legs. God, he had a gorgeous cock and you felt an answering tug in your lower half.

You watched his fist squeeze the head of his cock. A bead of moisture appeared on the tip and he used his thumb to smear it all over the head. You inadvertently licked your lips, missing his taste, and waves of heat rolled through your limbs, settling in your core.

“You like watching me work my cock?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, as if he already knows the answer.

“No.” you said stubbornly.

He tilts his head slightly, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. “I’m starting to think no means yes.”

Bucky moves closer, and despite every ounce of stubbornness in you, your body betrays you again. It’s like your body is inviting him, reacting on instinct, craving what your mind is still refusing to admit. Your pussy was swollen, slick. Primed for sex.

“Deschide larg picioarele pentru mine. Mică târfă.” You heard Bucky growl in his throat.

“What?”

“Open your legs wide for me, little slut.”

God, you wanted to hate him for that, but a blast of heat tore through you.

“Jesus,” you whispered as you widened your legs slightly. “You’re such a dick.”

“Hmm. Do you like to be called names, Y/N?” He let go of his cock and placed his hands on either side of his hips, displaying himself for you. “Do you like your hair pulled? Do you like to wear a man’s come on your face?”

Shit, when he asked those things in his low Romanian-accented voice, it sounded like pure sex. No doubt Bucky fucked like a beast, rough and dirty. He hadn’t shown you that side of him yet. The men you had been with treated you politely, like you were made of glass.

“Is that what you like to do to women in bed?”

Ignoring your question, he stared at your body, placing himself between your legs. “I wish you were sitting on my face right now. I would lick you and bite you, suck on your clit until you passed out. I want to pull on your skin with my teeth until it stings, then make you come so hard you squirt all over me.”

You stared at his wide cock, which jutted out proudly from his body, bobbing in his movement, with its smooth skin and veins along the side. You imagined that thickness drilling inside you, splitting you in half and filling you up. Your pussy clenched around the emptiness and you moaned.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

You licked your lips as you stared at his erection, too turned on to lie.

“Yes.” Bucky raised his brows, “. . .Daddy.”

He grabbed himself again, strong fingers wrapping around the shaft as he pulled, teasingly rubbing his head against your tender pussy.

“I would fuck you so good. Deep and hard. I would give you all my come, everything I am saving up in my balls just for you.”

“God, don’t you ever shut up?” Your legs were shaking, your movements uncoordinated because you were so turned on. So close. So needy.

“And you’ll take it, yes?” he continued, clearly not caring that this was a one-sided conversation. “I have never seen a woman so hungry for it. Didn’t those boys in Hollywood know how to fuck you? I bet they left you unsatisfied.”

Fuck why is he dragging this out so much?!

Hands resting on your thighs, you began crooning, “Can’t you see how wet I am, Daddy? Can you see how turned on I am by watching you jerk that big cock of yours? I bet you have to use lube when you fuck, you’re so big. Do the women scream when you’re pounding inside them? Do you make them bleed, leave their pussies raw?”

“That fucking mouth,” Bucky murmurs, a low, satisfied growl escaping as a slow grin spreads across his face. The crown of his dick dragged against your entrance, teasing, and you actually tilted your hips, eager for the invasion. “That’s it. You’re ready for me.”

You were beyond denial, beyond caring. “Yes,” you admitted to him.

“Show me. Take me inside.”

This was so dirty. So wrong. Yet your body was humming, almost burning alive with lust. There was an embarrassing amount of wetness between your legs, more than you would’ve thought possible considering the circumstances.

You adjusted your hips, seeking, and the head of his cock slipped inside you. Fuck, yes. You didn’t stop, continuing to rock your hips, writhing underneath him, to bring him deeper. You were wild for it, desperate to reach the finish, toward the explosive orgasm you knew awaited you.

“Shh,” he said in your ear. “I’ll give you what you need.”

He took over then, but pressed in much slower than you expected. The beginning had been about domination and strength, but now he invaded so carefully, like he wanted you to feel every twitch and tiny movement.

This was almost seduction, and it was worse than the chaos of moments ago. But there was no stopping it. You craved this, needed it. With a growl, he gave a final thrust of his hips and filled you completely, and the air left your lungs in a rush. He was hot and hard and so big, his dick impaling you, with the heavy weight of his body and restraints preventing you from moving. All you could do was lie there and take it.

Which made it a thousand times hotter.

“Fuck,” he said on a long exhale, then whispered a long string of another language that sounded both bewildered and excited.

Ragged breaths gusted against your cheek as he began to move, his hips meeting your pelvis. “You are mine, Y/N. Until I decide otherwise this pussy belongs to me.”

You couldn’t respond, because his dick was destroying you in the very best way. You loved the way he felt inside you, like there was no room for anything else. No insecurities or worries, no past or future. Just this, right here. Perspiration coated your skin and he surrounded you, his cock pounding, pounding, pounding into your body. The pleasure built and you closed your eyes, focusing on the orgasm just out of reach.

The sounds of skin slapping and heavy breathing filled the room. He fucked you like it was his purpose in life, completely dedicated to the task and never slowing down for a second. With every savage thrust you slid a little on the mattress, and you were so close to coming, your muscles clenching and straining . . . .

“You belong to me. Say it, doll.”

The words twisted inside you, driving you higher, and the walls of your pussy contracted around his cock.

“Fuck!” he grunted. “Do that again.”

You squeezed around him once more, and he groaned. “Tell me. Let me hear you say it.”

His fingers slid between your body and the mattress, moving lower until he found your clit. He rubbed you in tight circles. “Let me hear you say you belong to me.”

The words fell from your mouth on a gasp. “I belong to you, Daddy.”

Everything changed. He rode you even harder, without mercy, his fingers never leaving your clit, “Vino pentru mine, mica mea curvă frumoasă.”

Come for me, my beautiful little slut.

The combination of the words along with the stimulation became too much. Shocks raced up from your toes as the orgasm rushed over you. Your brain went offline, everything going blank for a long moment as the euphoria transported you into space.

“God, yes! Oh, fuck,” you heard yourself shout from far away while you shook uncontrollably. When your climax finally ebbed, he moved to his knees, releasing your legs from the restraints and lifted your hips to change the angle.

“Yes! Shove it deep, come inside me, Daddy.”

It allowed him deeper, and after a few pumps he swelled inside you, his hips stuttering just before hot jets of come filled your pussy.

“Oh fuck, ah!” he roared, his fingertips sinking into your flesh. No doubt you would be covered in bruises tomorrow. That should’ve horrified you, but it didn’t. After a moment, his movements slowed but he kept rocking, his dick still pulsing inside you.

“Take it all, baby,” he crooned and lowered to kiss your chest spine. “Take all of my come. You earned it. Ești o fată atât de bună.”

You’re such a good girl.

Fuck, you wished he would stop saying things like that. You flushed from head to toe and basked in the praise. He continued peppering your skin with kisses, displaying a tenderness you hadn’t expected. You melted like hot candle wax on the floor.

“Ești frumoasă,” he murmured as he dropped kisses along your chest. “Ești perfectă.”

You’re so beautiful. You’re perfect.

You felt butterflies in the deepest pit of your stomach. You’re not supposed to like that but you do.

Big hands swept up your back and you felt free from your restraints completely and then over your hip as he lifted you, angling your face toward his.

“I need you,” he whispered and kissed you.

You fell into the kiss eagerly, softening for him and letting him take your mouth. You could feel his urgency, his desperation, and it fed your own. His fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair to hold you in place as his tongue and lips devoured you.

The kiss went on and on, and your body responded as it always did to this man, your pussy getting more wet and swollen. You loved the way he kissed, with such absolute force and reverence. Like he longed to destroy and cherish you at the same time. Your skin crawled with need, a thousand pinpricks that made you feel alive and powerful. Bold, as if you could do anything.

You decided to take a risk. You flipped it around so now you’re on top. You started moving your hand south, over his ribs and down his abs. His mouth broke off from yours and he waited, his breath coming fast. He didn’t stop you, so you continued toward his crotch, and your palm skimmed his sweat-slick muscles.

He was glorious, a marble statue came to life.

You found his cock, thick and hard against his belly, and you gave it a gentle brush, a tease, before continuing to his balls. He grunted when you rolled and squeezed their weight with your fingers. Most men loved to have their balls played with, and Bucky was no different.

He spread his thighs to give you more room and you caressed him, exploring. When your hand swept the length of his dick, he jerked and rocked his hips, silently asking for more. You stroked him slowly and he exhaled against your cheek, strong fingers digging into your skin, the room quiet except for both your breathing.

You liked having him at your mercy for a change. Your lower half began to throb as you worked him. You knew what it was like to have this big dick inside you and your pussy was weeping for it. You weren't sure he’d allow you on top, but you really wanted to ride him just this once.

You slid your leg over his hips to straddle him. He held onto your waist and the feel of all his strength and power beneath you made your mouth water. His gaze was locked on your pussy as you grabbed his cock and lined him up at your entrance. You began feeding him inside, sinking down slowly, loving the stretch and burn as he took up all the space in your body.

“Fuck, James,” You whispered, his full name falling from your lips while you paused to let yourself adjust.

“Da, frumoasa mea fetiță,” he said softly, “Take me inside.”

A rush of arousal went through your core and he slid deeper. You gasped, hovering between pleasure and pain, and his thumb found your clit, rubbing and pressing. Tingles cascaded along the backs of your thighs, through your belly, and soon he was fully seated.

Goddamn, he was a lot.

You began slowly moving your hips, sliding his dick in and out of you while grinding on his pelvis. You clit dragged between you at the end of every stroke, and it sent streaks of white-hot need along your bloodstream. Though the room was dark, you locked eyes with him, and you could see the new arousal and possessiveness staring up at you. This felt so real. So intimate. Like he could see inside you, past all your deepest insecurities to your very soul. This is what he wanted.

You focused on your pleasure and churned your hips, loving the way his length tunnelled in and out of your channel, the friction unbelievably good. You tossed your hair and arched your back, giving him a show as you rode him.

“God, yes,” you moaned. “I want to do this all day.”

“Feel how hard I am?” His whisper filled your head like smoke, taking you higher. “That is all for you. Just you, comoara mea.”

The unguarded hunger and lust in his expression spurred you on, so you moved faster, and the bliss soon built and coiled inside you like a spring. When you placed your hands on his chest for leverage you half-expected him to shove you off, take over, and pin you to the mattress. Surprisingly he didn’t, so you dug your nails into his flesh, holding on as you continued to fuck him.

“Oh, shit.” you eyes slammed shut. You were so close, the orgasm was right there.

“Look at me,” he said sharply. “Look at me while you use my dick to get off.”

You did as he commanded, so you were staring at one another when you started to come a second later. The orgasm swept through you like a tsunami, waves and waves that chased everything else away.

Your mind went blank, his beautiful face your only anchor as you trembled and shook. The walls of your pussy squeezed him in rhythmic pulses and his lips parted on a hiss.

Before you’d even come down, he lifted you slightly and began pounding up from below. His feet were braced on the mattress, and each powerful thrust rocked the bed and sent the headboard into the wall with a bang.

Bending, you placed your face directly above his, your mouths inches apart. You were close enough to feel his breath as he grunted and huffed. You don’t know what made me say it, but you started talking.

“That’s it, daddy. Give me all of your come. Every bit of it, deep inside. Make me your good girl.”

“Fuck!” His body went taut beneath you, and you could feel him swell just before he flooded your insides again with hot lashes of his come. He held you still, his fingers clamped around your hips so hard you knew you’d have bruises to add to the collection.

“You are mine,” he ground out, his big body jerking beneath you.

Finally he sagged into the bed. You tried to catch your breath, your body sprawled on top of him like a rag doll. He was still inside you, and you could feel our sticky mess leaking out of you as he softened.

He stared at the ceiling, arms wide, chest heaving, while sweat rolled down his temples and into his thick dark hair. You both stayed like that for a long time, neither of you speaking. You didn’t have a clue as to what to say. You felt destroyed in the very best way.

He dragged a hand down his face. Gently rolling you off to his side.

“Soak in the hot tub,” he said and pushed to his feet. “Otherwise you will be sore later.”

He didn’t help you up or even look in your direction. Instead, he jerked on some clothes and walked out of the bedroom, leaving you on the bed. Naked, filled with his come, and unshackled.

Your body still tingles from the aftershocks as you reach over to the bedside table, your hand trembling slightly as you grab your phone. Bucky had placed it there earlier, so casually, like it was just part of the routine. But now, the weight of it feels different, heavier.

You swipe the screen, the familiar glow illuminating the dimly lit room. Your thumb hovers for a second before you press play. The video begins, and there you are—captured in the heat of the moment, vulnerable, raw.

You feel a strange mixture of curiosity and disbelief watching yourself like this, seeing everything from a perspective that isn’t your own. Your breath catches in your throat as the sound of his voice, low and commanding, fills the room again. Each word, each movement, feels magnified, more intense than you remember.

As the video plays, you notice the moment when Bucky shifts, his gaze no longer on you but directly into the camera. That smirk, the one you’ve seen a thousand times, is aimed at the lens—not at you. For a second, it’s as if he’s performing for the camera, not for you, and the realisation sends a shiver down your spine.

He knew. He knew you’d be watching this later, knew exactly how it would feel for you to see him like this, his eyes focused on the camera while you were completely unaware. The deliberate way he captured the moment, not just for you but for himself too, is unsettling—and somehow, impossibly, it draws you in even more.

It was all planned. A reminder that even in the heat of it, Bucky was always one step ahead.

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!!! I really love your writing 🥺 Idk how this works so Idk if my request is alright so If it's ok for you to write it, I got this idea about Spencer turning into a player/manwhore after maeve died so he's not into y/n in the beginning but the others always joke about how she's totally in love with him and he doesn't believe until he starts to notice little things she does for him(like getting him coffee every morning, remembering everything he says) so he start to fall for her. Genre: smut with soft!Dom Spencer, dirty talk, degradation(please no daddy kink) (Sorry if it's to long, I read it's best for you if we give as much detail as possible so that's that) I'm going to identify myself with this emoji 🥺 when I read the fic or in my next requests, hope I gave you something to write with.

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg this plot has given me brain rot since you sent it in 💀 I accidentally made this a little angst-heavy for the first half but there's a very "happy ending" if you catch my drift. I hope you love it! ❤️

Summary: Spencer Reid's heart is broken. But in healing himself in the arms of countless woman, he doesn't realise he's breaking yours.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, angst, oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V penetration, dirty talk, degradation of you squint a little, soft!Dom Spencer is incredibly soft.

My masterlist with all my other works is here, and my requests are open!

It had taken four whole months before someone on the team had confronted Spencer about his grief, his lack of sleep, his overall dreariness, and they were almost shocked that it wasn’t you that did it. When Rossi had walked up to him, offering a story about his Uncle Sal in an attempt to get him to open up, or at least seek help, the others were on the other side of the glass, shooting looks over at you, quietly enquiring with their eyes about why it hadn’’t been you to offer him that out.

But you had, you’d been trying. You’d been following him around, taking him food every couple days to make sure he was eating, sticking around to make sure that he wasn’t lonely. You’d even cleaned up after him on the particularly hard days, where he didn’t want to move from his bed and couldn’t bring himself to go outside if there was no work, no one else to save. But you couldn’t offer him more, because he already had all of you.

You’d first realised that you were in love with Spencer Reid a few months after you’d joined the team. You’d been bought on as a fresh set of eyes on a case that had a lot more to do with you then the rest of the team had been led to believe.

Your high school boyfriend had been the victim of a notorious highway murderer, and you yourself had been kidnapped by the unsub, put in hell for the following three days and escaped with your life only because of an earlier BAU team, including agents Hotchner and Rossi. When bodies had started turning up on the same stretch of highway, you needed to be involved or you’d never prove to yourself that you could do what they did to save you. That you’d be able to put your feelings aside and catch monsters.

You’d found the man responsible of course, and in restraining yourself from putting a bullet in his brain, you’d found yourself a place on the team, and some peace for a time. And then Spencer happened.

You really should have known. You were always fond of the nerdy type, of men who had such deep interests that they forgot to pay attention to social queues, who had too many cute habits (like purposefully mismatching socks) that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d grown close quickly, with the man grateful that there was finally someone to listen to him ramble and not judge him, and you grateful that he also held himself back enough, listened closely and well to remember so many details about your conversations. You knew an eidetic memory helped, but it was the care in the small actions, like buying you the beanie baby you lost as a child but still mourned, that you’d mentioned in conversation a grand total of one time, that really solidly made you realise. You were in love with him and had dug yourself a hole that you weren’t going to be able to climb out of anytime soon.

You’d almost told him once. Convinced that if you just explained your feelings, he’d suddenly feel the same or realise that he felt the same way, too. You’d opened your mouth to let the words run freely, but he beat you to it.

“I’ve met someone, and she’s totally brilliant and I think I might love her, and that must be an insane thing to say considering I’ve never even seen her face.” You’d willed the broken pieces of your heart together as you forced a smile on your face, ready to listen to the man who owned your heart smile for another, live for another, breath for another.

When Maeve had ultimately passed away, you knew that you’d never be able to say those words to him. You weren’t going to be the replacement for a dead woman, and you weren’t going to push those feelings on him when he was grieving. But you loved him and he needed you, so you stayed.

On the nights where he was so angry with the world that his words were biting, on the days where he said almost nothing so trapped inside his brain, in the hours between dusk and dawn where there was no rest for him, wiping away the tears that fell silently and just being as near to him as he needed.

You had some experience in broken hearts, anyways. You might as well put it to good use.

–X–

It had taken five whole months since Maeve’s death for the team to realise that Spencer was changing. He was still the same person intrinsically, ready to spring into a conversation about absolutely anything and everything that interested him at the drop of a hat, still debating with Penelope about which of them was smarter, still being teased in that playful way by Morgan. But there was a confidence to him now that was almost dangerous in the fact that it was uncharted territory for him.

You’d noticed it first on one of your regular coffee runs. The two of your were so serious about your coffee tasting like anything but actual coffee that you’d bonded over the need for a sweet treat, and had been going for coffee before all of your office shifts almost since you’d started. You were glad to have him finally back by your side, making stupid jokes about how many philosophers it would take to change a lightbulb, and actually smiling and laughing with you that you almost didn’t notice anything amiss.

But when the barista who took his order carefully slipped him her number - something she’d been doing for the whole six months you’d been frequenting that cafe - for once, he hadn’t thrown it away. He’d taken a lingering look at the digits inked neatly into the napkin and quietly slipped it into his pocket. You were confused to say the least, but since that night of your almost confession, there had been a boundary between you two in that sense.

It was almost as if, if you didn’t ask questions about Spencer’s love life, it was like he wasn’t out there, being in love. With Maeve it had worked fine because he’d never met her, and honestly, until you’d started trying to save her he hadn’t brought her up a lot. But now, you were too afraid to break your own heart again to check up on him, deciding to let it go for your own well-being.

The others had noticed soon enough. Comments about a pep in his step, his flirtacious manner with some of the female witnesses. He’d gained a few claps on the back from Morgan after closed off conversations that you had decided you were thankful not to have heard.

Because if you never saw or heard what Reid was doing, and apparently doing with multiple women, multiple times a week, then it couldn’t hurt you anymore than you were already hurting now.

–X–

It took seven months from Maeve’s death to realise that you were only fooling yourself this entire time.

Despite his new-found release, the therapy he’d found in the beds of women whose names he never learnt, there was one thing that you could still rely on with Reid, and that was your Friday night Star Trek watch-along.

You’d mentioned once a few weeks into your job that you’d never seen it before, and he’d had this absolutely starry-eyed look on his face in bewilderment, that when he’d half-heartedly suggested you watch it together, you’d leapt at the chance. Since there was so much of it, here you were over a year later, still keeping to that Friday night ritual. You’d watched it together in motels in the middle of nowhere, you’d watched it together over the Christmas holidays, you’d watched it together in the days directly after Maeve’s death, and tonight was supposed to be no different.

You pulled up to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when you couldn’t immediately hear him shout to “come in” from his kitchen as he was preparing the popcorn, you knew that something was wrong. His door was always unlocked, and he laughed at your habit of knocking on the door, insisting that you could just walk in anytime you needed.

Now that you needed to, your hand seemed heavier than ever. You gripped the cold metal of the handle, knowing exactly what you would find on the other side of the door, but still wanting to live in the clear denial of it. You prayed it was something else keeping him distracted.

You let yourself in and were welcomed with the sight that shattered your heart for the final time. There were clothes scattered across the floor, male and female. Shoes discarded in the heat of the moment. You didn’t want your eyes to follow, but your feet weren’t listening as they walked you to the bedroom door, thrust wide open, and you saw him there finally.

“Shit, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he scrambled to pull his clothes back on, to cover whatever woman it was underneath him that day, to make sure you didn’t see anymore of the image that would be burned into the back of your brain for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t say anything. You knew that he had been doing this, doing it to cope, doing it to move on, doing it to feel a sense of intimacy after he didn’t get that with Maeve. But here was the irrefutable proof that he’d never even looked at you with an ounce of the feeling you had for him. You held up the bag of snacks you usually bought to your Trek marathons as a response, the tears filling up your eyes rendering you mute as you finally tore yourself out of the room.

“Oh god, it’s Friday. I didn’t realise…. I’m sorry, can we do a raincheck, Y/N?” He guided you further out of the room, placing a hand to the small of your back to help move you along. Something in you snapped then and you recoiled from his touch, whipping your head up to him and just staring at him with all the defiance you could muster. He had broken your heart, you weren’t going to let him dismiss you that quickly.

“Y/N, why are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened? Tell me and I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” He finished his words, and made to wipe the tears from your face, but you slapped his hands away from you before he could make contact.

“Don’t… just don’t touch me, Spencer.” Those were the only words you could offer in explanation before you turned on your heel and ran straight out of his apartment for the last time.

–X–

It took one month from you storming out of his apartment for Spencer to realise that he hadn’t dreamt of Maeve in the same amount of time. Where his dreams had been full of her asking him to dance, they were now full of you recoiling from his touch, refusing to speak to him outside of your professional work, withdrawing into yourself and crying. The worst ones were the ones where you were crying because he tried desperately to hold you, to wipe the kisses away, but everytime he tried you moved further and further from his reach.

It had been a month of you ignoring him, and he still didn’t know what went wrong. Yes, you’d caught him in bed with a girl, but you knew he was doing that. You’d known from the start, and he’d known that you’d known, so surely it wasn't just that.

Morgan wasn’t helping him on that front either. He’d explained the awkward run-in in his apartment, desperate for some answers and received some pretty curt replies.

“Pretty boy, if you don’t realise what you did wrong, then there’s nothing I’m going to do to help you. You’re on your own until then.” He’d refused to talk about it anymore.

He’d thought a few times about talking to the girls on the team, but you’d been partnered with JJ for the last month on cases to avoid him, and there was a bond there between the two of you that he didn’t want to overstep.

It was in this confusion that Rossi found him again, taking pity on the boy wandering around like a lost puppy in the absence of your friendship.

“Kid, what is up with you again recently?”

“Y/N has been avoiding me, and I don’t know why. Derek said it was my fault because she… well she walked in on something that I’d rather she hadn’t, you know, and I don’t know why she still won’t talk to me because it’s been a month.” He rambled out, thankful that someone was finally hearing him out.

“If I’m understanding your insinuation here, I think I know what the problem is.” Rossi sat back, choosing his words carefully, so as not to startle the younger man. But he was so worked up all over you, missing your voice, your touch, your company, and just wanting you back in whatever way he could get you that he jumped at the very suggestion of answers.

“Then please, tell me, I’m begging you. I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure out what it is and I just miss her so much that it hurts.”

“Spencer, you know I usually don’t get involved in the personal lives of my coworkers, but just listen to me now, nice and calmly - and dont try to interrupt me or say a word. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He gave a quick nod of his head, waiting with baited breath for Rossi to continue.

“The girl is in love with you. Head over heels, in fact, and has been for quite some time. And she was holding it together real nice until you decided to become this casanova and now she is heartbroken,” Spencer looked like he was about to interrupt, to spew out that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but Rossi silenced him with a look. “If you don’t believe me, you use that memory of yours and you do what you do best. Think about it.”

–X–

For the next three months, that was all Spencer did. He thought about every interaction you’d ever had. The blush on your cheeks when he’d introduced himself for the first time (and refused to shake your hand). The countless nights spent curled up on opposite sides of his couch, laughing and crying together at silly sci-fi shows. The way you’d thrown yourself into his arms after a particularly gruelling case, buried your head in his chest instead of anyone else's. The day you’d finally confessed your past to him, how he’d felt your heart beating as he held a finger to your pulse, hand gently holding yours waiting for you to finish describing the time you’d stared death in the face.

You’d noticed the change, but you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it fully. Noticed how he’d shoot you lingering glances from across the room, how he’d look like he had something to say when you announced you were leaving for the night. How he’d ask everyone together what their friday night plans were just to hear you admit that you were going home alone in the company of the rest of the team.

You’d noticed, and god had it given you a spark of hope that you wished would die quickly. You’d noticed, and so you weren’t as surprised when he turned up on your doorstep four months after you’d last talked to him, on another friday evening.

“What are you doing here?” you greeted him, the words coming out colder than you wanted them to seem, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

“Don’t make me leave, please, I just have something to ask and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spencer, it’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed so-”

“Do you still love me?” His words cut you off and your heart all but stopped. Your tongue grew heavy, and the inside of your mouth tasted acidic, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fully stomach whatever conversation was coming.

“Excuse me?” you spluttered out eventually.

“Three months ago, Rossi said that you were in love with me, and I need to know that if that was the case, are you still in love with me now?” You expected some cold curious look to be gracing his face, but you looked up to see his eyes perfectly trained on your own, his mouth set in a line, a look of stony determination set on his face.

“If I say yes, what difference does that make?” you tried not to spit out the words, but you had no control over the venom in your heart.

“If you say yes, then I am going to kiss you, and then I am going to spend every last day I have on the planet making up for being an idiot for the last two years.” Your breath caught in your throat, and, not for the first time in front of Spencer Reid, you were stunned into silence.

“So, what is your answer?” He looked down at you again, and you started to see the cracks in his stony facade, started to see through to the man who desperately wanted you to say yes, to scream it at him.

The word hadn’t even fully formed on your tongue before he was crashing down into you, his mouth pleading for forgiveness and wrapping you up in him. He grabbed you and pulled you back into your apartment, whispering into each of your kisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The two of you stumbled into the space, but he never moved his hands from the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips brushed against yours again and again.

Your legs gave way beneath you by the time you’d reached the open space of your living room, but instead of catching you, he fell to his knees with you, content for the two of you to just sit there together in each other's embrace.

“You’ve loved me this entire time, and I was too stupid to realise that you’re everything I need.” He kissed your mouth, your jaw, your neck, moving his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you in deep again as you desperately pulled away in search of breath. That only toppled you further to the ground, and he came down on top of you again as well, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself.

And you kissed him back just as fervently when your breath returned, listening to every apology and forgiving him with every touch. His kisses said “I’m sorry,” and yours said “I know,” and that was all the communication you needed for now.

He pulled your shirt over your head eventually, and your skin met the cold tile of the floor, a shiver running up your spine causing you to buck your hips up into his. He hissed at the contact and pushed his bodyweight down further into yours, his legs slotting perfectly between your splayed ones now.

“It took me too long to realise, and it has taken me too long to act on the knowledge, but I am not going to let you go again, do you understand?” he pushed his lips into yours again before you could respond, and you clawed into his shoulders as he started grinding down into your body. His hand trailed up your waist to your breasts, pulling them free from the constraints of your bra, as he let his tongue slide down from your neck to your chest.

“I need to hear you say it baby, need you to say you understand, can you do that for me?” Your body burned under his attention, back arching desperately for more contact as his tongue swirled your nipple into his mouth, gasping breaths loud enough to fill the empty air of your apartment. His stiff cock was firmly pressing against your core now, barely clothed in the pajamas you’d pulled on before his arrival.

“Spencer, yes, I need you, I need you right now, please,” grabbed at either side of his face and pulled him back up so he was face to face with you. You initiated the kiss this time, and you could feel your heart soar at the tender kiss he met you with, thankful for the reciprocation.

“Not yet, baby, not yet, okay?” he whispered in your ear, trailing his hands down to your centre and slipping his hand under your clothes. “So fucking wet for me, baby. Just for me, right, baby?” His fingers found your clit, and he started rolling it between his fingers. He worked slowly enough to drive you insane, but giving you just enough relief that you couldn’t complain.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, yes it’s all for you. Only for you,” you managed to gasp out. He shifted his hand after a few minutes, still pressing love bites down your chest, claiming you as his in the most animalistic way possible. He spread the wetness that pooled at your core around, making sure that his fingers were coated in you before pushing a single digit into your aching hole, thumb continuing to draw circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s my little slut, so desperate for me, so needy for me.” His words shot through you, and you started thrusting your hips up desperate for more friction with his hand. He roughly pushed you back down, pinning you under him with his free hand.

“No, baby, I’m in charge here. You sit back and relax and let me make you feel good,okay?” His words soothed you, the growing heat in the pit of your stomach fizzing in anticipation. His kisses dropped lower and lower, until he was finally pulling off your remaining clothing and replacing his thumb with his lips.

“Fuck Spencer, if you keep doing that, I’m going to-” another sharp intake as he pumped a second finger in and out of you.

“Going to what, baby? Use your words?”

“I’m going to cum, Spencer please, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.,,” you rode out your high with his face stuffed between your legs still, swallowing your loud moans for fear of the entire neighbourhood knowing just how obsessed you were with this man.

“You did so good for me, baby, so good. I love you so much, okay? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay?” He began pressing kisses to your mouth again, and you could taste yourself against him now.

“I need you so badly, baby, are you going to let me have you?” He started pulling off his own clothing now, removing his shirt and tie, but never once leaving your embrace for too long.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m sorry for not realising before, but I realise now. I was so terrible to you after Maeve, and god, even before she died I was using you as a therapist to talk through my thoughts and fears, but I was too dense to even realise that I was only in love with Maeve because she was safe. I couldn’t meet her, couldn’t touch her, didn’t have the chance to ruin anything I had with her. I couldn't realise that she wasn’t you, that she wasn’t going to feel like you do in my arms. And maybe some part of me loved her, but we were using each other, and I was using her to avoid confronting how I felt about you.”

“And how I feel for you is different. I am obsessed with you, Y/N. I am so madly in love with you that the last four months have felt like hell. I could have emptied myself of all the blood in my body and still my heart would be beating for you. Do you understand?”

You answered in a chaste kiss on his lips, sweet and quick, but as much as you could muster without driving yourself to the brink of insanity getting yourself high on his touch.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want now, okay?” He’d unbuttoned his pants shortly after that and you stared transfixed at the head of his cock poking up and out of them, desperate to see it, touch it, taste it.

“I need you inside of me, Spence, please,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the tender contact, the confession. All the emotions you’d been burying for the last four months bubbling to the surface, dancing around your head as he made you dizzy with desire.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with the last of his clothing removed he was finally free, taking his heavy,aching cock in his hand and lining himself up with you. With a single thrust, and another confession of love, he gave you what you wanted so much.

“You wanted me like this, baby? So desperate to have my cock inside you?” he plagued you with questions as you adjusted to his size, watching your face for any discomfort as you mumbled out yes after yes.

“Me too, baby. I wanted you just like this, wanted you so desperate and dripping for me that I could slide right in, wanted you like this for me and only me.” He began thrusting then, slowly pumping his cock into you, heavy with each return, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the ensemble of your moans.

“I love you,” he said again, and with each thrust of his hips, and you responded in kind, matching his thrusts with your own and pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulders. You were so desperate and needy, so starved of touch and starved of one another that neither of you lasted long. Your bodies were so in sync that as soon as he’d pushed you over the edge for a second time, you could feel him spill himself inside you, filling you completely.

He rolled off you, but didn’t leave you there, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He cleaned you up as much as possible, then folded you back into his arms, holding you again so tenderly that you let the tears flow down your cheeks for a final time.

It was Friday night, and he was here, and he loved you. You weren’t going to let him go again.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #criminal minds smut #requested #🥺 Anon

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months ago

Text

I'll Be Seeing You

Pairing: Jack Reacher x Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. PIV, Cursing, SMUT, ANGST, fingering (fem receiving), nipple play, Sorry if I missed others. No spoilers for the show.

Summary: When Reacher reached your town, he was lucky enough to meet you the first day. You made him feel things he’d never felt before. And though there was the sad tug of goodbye in every interaction, he couldn’t help but stay one more night.

AO3 Link

Word count: 2,253k

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive, @kiwi-jelly-mochi! LOL. I rewatched Reacher tonight. Need that man badly! This is what my brain considers a drabble. Enjoy! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Reacher had a lot of adjusting to do when it came to you. He was a man that prided himself on being as free as possible, never sticking anywhere for too long. He didn’t stay in the same place twice. There was too much world to see and his boots were made for walking.

However, when he blew through your hometown, he saw you sitting outside of a local coffee cafe, nose deep in a book and sipping on hot coffee. A glance was all it took for him to know that he had to meet you. Talk to you.

It took some convincing. You kept saying you didn’t usually go for “white guys”. Like you were trying to convince yourself not to say yes to him. That only made him try harder. Stick around the town longer than usual, actually finding the place relaxing for once.

No matter where he went, trouble always seemed to follow. Not here. Not with you. It was like you cast some type of spell over the town, warding it from any evil intent swinging through. If he believed in such things, he’d firmly believe you cast a spell on him.

It could explain how his chest grew tight whenever you looked at him. Or when you smiled at something small like when flower petals landed on your hand or when you heard children laughing. You were so sweet all the time. So full of love and optimism besides all the horrors in the world.

He strangely found that he didn’t mind it. He wanted to soak up more of it. Be around it. Around you. Interested in the way you make him feel. Stirring up feelings he wasn’t sure how to interpret.

His favorite thing so far was when you called him your robot. He knew he wasn’t the most expressive, the most welcoming. He’d been called everything under the sun by men twice your height and weight, upset that someone treated them like an adult for once.

He would be lying if he didn’t like your attempts to make him smile naturally. Doing funny impressions, making funny faces at him, bumping your shoulder with his. He played along, doubling down on being a robot but that was okay.

He liked that you were the beauty to his brute. You made him feel like Fred Flinstone whenever you blinked those cute eyes at him. You let him turn his brain off, live in the moment.

Speaking of, you were sitting on your couch, drinking your favorite drink and listening to old vinyl records your grandmother left you. You weren’t really into the music, but listening to it made you feel closer to her. Mourn the relationship you never had. Okay, so maybe he couldn’t always turn it off.

In his mind, details mattered. He wanted to bask in all of your details. The moles, the scars, the lines in the palm of your hand. You’ve lived and that made you the most interesting thing in the world to him.

Cool jazz music played, Billie’s voice crooning, and you lightly bobbed your head, looking at him. He smiled at you, loving the soft way your eyes crinkled. You took another sip and tilted your head at him. “What you thinkin’ about Mr. Robot?” You asked. You reached out and tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You,” he said, seeing no reason to be coy.

“What about me?” You asked.

“How pretty you’d look in my lap,” he said.

You giggled and shook your head. But you placed your drink down on the coffee table and scooted closer. “You’re gonna make it hard when you finally say goodbye,” you said, your voice wobbling. You kept on a brave face, smiling despite it all.

He told you that he wasn’t the sticking around type. The more he stayed here, the more he gained familiar haunts with you day by day, he wasn’t so sure that was true anymore. Wanderlust was his first love. Needing to roam thanks to his military background. Never putting down roots. Never staying in any one place long enough to make connections. Just a mean right hook and an itch whenever he saw injustice.

Yet, whenever he thought of leaving, his chest would seize and he’d have to sit there and breathe through the panic. He knew he was in too deep already, but he needed one more night. One more day to wrap himself inside you and pretend to live there. Pretend to claim you. Pretend that you’ll always remember him when you’ve found the love of your life and forgot all about him.

Just one more. That was all he needed. Then he’d be strong enough. Then he’d be the only one strong enough to leave you.

For now, he pulled you by the hand to come sit in his lap. You giggled, scrambling across the lush blue cushions to climb into his lap. He also loved it when you got excited. The way you lived out loud, expressed emotions clearly and vividly. So much so, even a brute like him could pick up on it. Become infected by it. Feel it latch onto his bloodstream and never let up.

He pushed your black flowered dress up your thighs as you settled into his lap. He grabbed two big handfuls of your ass, squeezing it hard just like you needed it. You growled, rolling against his crotch like a needy slut.

You weren’t wearing panties and he chuckled as he gripped your ass, giving it a light smack. “No panties this time?” He asked.

“They just get in the way. Someone has a penchant for ripping them,” you said, pointedly looking at him. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his. He hummed, licked his lips, and leaned in for another kiss. You indulged him, bringing your hands to cup his strong square jaw and scratch at his stubble.

“You’re right, they’re in the way,” he said, grinning naturally, just for you. Your eyes lit up and you squirmed in his lap.

His dick was throbbing with your movements. With the subtle friction from your breasts pushed into his chest. He squeezed your ass again, giving it another smack. He began to kiss your neck, licking the pulse in your neck and causing you to purr. You melted in his hands, falling against him as he moved further down.

He used his teeth to pull down the cups of your dress, freeing your breasts and humming in satisfaction. Fuck, he loved your breasts. Loved how they were the perfect shape and size. He leaned down, needing to feel your soft flesh in his mouth.

He latched onto a nipple, sucking hard. You squealed, hitting his shoulder. He chuckled, sucking harder. He tortured the little nub, feeling it peak beneath his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, Reacher, I could write entire books about this mouth,” you moaned, throwing your head back. You poked your chest out, giving him full and complete access. Just as he liked.

“Please do, I’d love to read it,” he whispered against your titty. You chuckled, bouncing in his lap and rubbing against his dick. He felt lightning strikes straight to his balls, getting heavier with a thick load just for you.

He let go of your titty with a wet pop, leaning back far enough to admire his handy work. Satisfied, he moved on to the other, suckling it and moaning as you rubbed in just the right place. Just enough for him to buck his hips.

“I need you, Reacher,” you whispered into his hair, kissing his head.

“I got you,” he said. For now. For this moment. For this brief interlude in between towns when he discovered all there was and planned to move on to the next. The next people. He wouldn’t find another you, however.

He picked you up effortlessly, scooting you back on his thighs so that he could free himself. He groaned as his dick was released from his jeans, pressure finally eased. You leaned over to the end table, grabbing a discreet foil package.

He’d been here an entire week and he’d fucked you every single day. Never without a condom. He wished to feel you completely. To soak his dick with your slick. Your essence. The very heart of you. He wanted it. And that was exactly why he couldn’t.

If you were an old blues record, you were one of the rare, more optimistic ones. The ones that hurt his heart and made him think at the same time. You sounded like forever in every ring around the record, the delicate scratch of the needle. You needed someone to handle you with care. With love. To play you every Sunday right as the sun went down, fresh glass of lemonade beside. To protect, to hold.

And that was why he never forgot the condom. Neither did you. You handed it to him and he opened it, rolling it on, and he used his fingers to gauge how wet you were.

Fuck, you were dripping. He groaned and went back to kissing your chest. Working his way up to your jaw, to the corners of your mouth, kissing you fully on the lips. Heat washed over him, a burning fire under his ass to get inside you as quickly as possible.

He played with your clit as he lined himself up, sinking you down on his dick. “Unf, fuck,” he moaned. You didn’t even grimace or cry out that time. A week was all it took for you to get acclimated to his size.

“You’re killing me,” he said.

You giggled, pressing kisses into his face. He fucking loved it. Your hands went around his neck, starting to lift up and down onto his dick.

Your breathing was shaky but you persisted, lifting all the way off of him and then sinking right back down. You groaned as he seemed to hit some kind of spot inside of you, rubbing his thick mushroom head along your inner walls.

“Shit, fuck me, Reacher. Fuck me, please,” you begged.

Reacher hooked his hands under your thighs and sped up, fucking you onto his dick with a little more speed. You cried, soaking his dick. He could feel it, but he couldn’t really feel it.

“Oh shit, right there. Right there, Reacher, right there,” you whimpered.

He listened. He kept the same pace, the same thrust, spearing you on his massive dick. “Let me hear you,” he said.

You cried harder, whimpered longer, moaned in a tinny voice that sent more lightning strikes to his dick. He seemed to swell just hearing how needy you were. Felt how wet you were for him. He pretended that it was only for him. That you would only ever get this wet for him. To bless him with this side of you. This unregulated, wholesome, completely authentic part of you.

“Louder, louder,” he said, panting, thrusting up to meet you bouncing on his dick. You felt amazing. Perfect. So perfect.

Your cries got louder, moaning battling the music still crooning in the late afternoon. Your living room was small but it suited you. Everything about the space was warm and comforting. Even the couch. He sank pleasantly into it, firm enough to meet your sopping wet pussy.

Your titties bounced in his face. He watched your pert brown nipples dangling like sweet berries in front of his face. He resisted the urge to suck on them again, instead looking up at you.

Your mouth was open, tongue peeking out. Your eyes were low, spaced out, and the most beautiful sight of all. Better than any piece of artwork. Any genius masterpiece. Your nails dug into his shoulders. He barely felt it.

He wasn’t arrogant enough to not feel pain, but he was a big guy. He could take a punch and he could certainly take the way you gripped onto him for dear life. “Oh, Reacher, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, diving down for a kiss.

“Let me feel it,” he said, looking into your eyes.

You tightened your hold, gritted your teeth before your jaw went slack and you shook on his dick. He kept bouncing you, felt how your pussy tightened and pulsed on his dick. He moaned, wanting to keep looking at you but also wanting to let the sensation take over.

Sensation won out as he dropped his head back against the couch cushion, smacking your ass as you moaned from your orgasm. He was close. Now that you came, he could take it a step further. Slide in deeper. Bounce you quicker.

His balls tightened as he finally climaxed, hot sperm shooting into the condom. He moaned, grabbing onto your ass for an anchor point. He grunted as he finished, looking down at where you were connected.

Your skin was slick with sweat, chest heaving with breaths. He grinned at you, couldn’t help wanting to make you smile. He was going to hate himself when he had to make you sad.

“I think I’m gonna stay one more night,” he said, bringing you into a kiss. He licked your lips and you gasped and he slipped his tongue inside, needing to taste more. Do more.

“Okay, but only one more,” you said, against his lips. You got an evil glint in your eye and he wondered if you weren’t up to something devious tonight. He couldn’t wait to find out.

There will be more! The Secret Jack Reacher Files

Taglist: @planetblaque @chaos-4baby @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui

@we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @kiwi-jelly-mochi

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Jack Reacher Files #Jack Reacher x Black!reader #Jack Reacher x Black reader #Jack Reacher x Fem!reader #Jack Reacher x Fem reader #Jack Reacher x plus size reader #x Black reader #x Fem reader #x plus size reader #Jack Reacher fanfic #Jack Reacher fan fic #Jack Reacher fan fiction #Jack Reacher fanfiction #Alan Ritchson #Reacher fanfic #Reacher fan fic #Reacher fanfiction #Reader fan fiction

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daydr3amy · 3 months ago

Text

Lyfting tips as someone who went from a godawful lyfter to someone who is careful, cautious & obviously never gets caught

DISCLAIMER!! I do not actually sh0pl1ft- this is a role play account. I pretend to sh0pl1ft online because I would never do so in real life!! NOTHING I SAY REGARDING TIPS/SH0PL1FTING ARE TRUE AND ARE ALL MADE UP

Now obviously this conversation circulates

lyfting Tumblr a shit tonne but I want to

share my own experiences as to help baby

lifters & maybe give new insight to

experienced lyfters

I want to begin by sharing a story that keeps me up at night because it’s THAT embarrassing. I had a thought a year or so ago back that I wanted to begin lyfting all because I saw a girl on twitter who was a lyfting god (I now know that she was actually awful at lifting I’ll expand on this more later). I had went to a coffee shop and a gas station (on one side was the coffee shop and the other was the gas station they’re in the same building and there’s no doorway in between the two) after me and my brother had finished our coffee he decided he wanted to get something at the gas station. Whilst he was checking out with the only cashier on duty I was eyeing the protein bars thinking “now is my chance!! I HAVE to do this.. it’s now or never” by the time I had it set in my mind I was going to Lyft this protein bar- my brother was already done checking out and was waiting for me at the door. The cashier was not distracted by any other customers as it was only me and my brother in the store at the time. I knelt down by the protein bars and my brother asked “what are you doing?” And I replied in an overly loud voice “just looking at protein bars!!” I then decided on one and tried to tuck it in my sleeve with one hand. That didn’t work and it didn’t quite fit in my sleeve because I was so nervous- feeling rushed- and overall super shaky. Mind you my brother is standing about 5 feet away at the door looking at me crouching spending WAY too much time ‘looking at the protein bars’. Finally I managed to get the fucking protein bar up my sleeve and I loudly said “okay I’m ready to go!!”. After my brother and I had left the store he said “why did you steal that?” And then to my horror he says “you know the cashier was walking over to you and was practically almost looking right down at you. I cringed so hard at the thought of that actually playing out.

Now a lot of you may be thinking “oh she’s fucking dumb” and well… yes. But just as a little challenge I want you all to read through that story again and identify every red flag, everything I did wrong, & everything I failed to do that could’ve caused me to get caught in the act (there are 9!)

Ready?

1) I went into a store where two sets of employees from two separate corporations could see me borrowing

2) I got coffee from the shop- meaning they have my card details. If they were interested in prosecuting- they now have all my information

3) it was NOT a planned lift. The only ‘planning’ was done once i was in the store. This means I did not have a backup plan- I did not know how employees treat potential borrowing- and I did not wear an appropriate shirt to conceal

4) I did not scope out the store for cameras at all. In fact once I went to that store again I realized there was a big dome camera that was RIGHT above me 😭 the cashier more than likely had the camera footage displayed on her computer

5) I brought someone who was both A) unknowing (well kind of.. I was so fucking obvious even he knew what was going on) and B) someone who is completely inexperienced in lyfting. As soon as he had asked what I was doing I should have left it alone and exited the store with him

6) my responses to my brother. Any regular shopper would not need to shout/talk loudly explaining themselves “Oh!! I’m just looking at [insert weirdly specific item] definitely not doing anything awful or criminal like lyfting!!” Rather they would take an extremely casual approach speaking at a normal level “I’m just looking to see if they have what I wanted up here but I don’t think they do” [cue exit]. Being hyperspecific and sounding nervous will get you caught. No normal person talks like that- I recommend observing normal shoppers if you go out planning to lyft and attempting to copy their casual behaviours.

7) the amount of time I spent looking??? Like nobody is going to be looking at fucking protein bars like they are trying to find the Willy Wonka golden ticket 😭 if you are lyfting you have to be quick and precise - at any second you could be caught

8) I was completely unaware of my surroundings. I had no idea where the cashier was until I actually left the store. I’m not saying look around you frantically at all times Tryint to make sure you’re alone- that’ll get you sussed especially if people are watching cams. Take notice of where everyone is- especially employees and conceal quickly

9) nervous demeanour. I was so shaky and anxiety ridden it looked like I was about to go skydiving. Typically customers who come to shop at stores don’t get a panic attack from looking at store products- I’m actually laughing to myself at how ridiculous I must have looked LOL. Appear calm and collected and nobody will suspect anything.

Did you catch every red flag? If not- and I mean this in such a kind way- reevaluate your lyfting techniques. Lyfting is a crime and no matter how old you are if the court decides to trial you as an adult you’re fucked.

Briefly I want to circle back to the beginning of my twitter friend who both encouraged me to lift- & lifted MASSIVE hauls. Here’s a tip for everyone here that may be semi unpopular- there is nothing more stupid than a sh0pl1fter who Lyfts more than 999 dollars in one shopping trip. I don’t care about your states felony limit at all. Let me bring a new train of thought to everyone’s minds sh0pl1fting is 50% luck 50% skill you could be the most talented lyfter in the world but guess what? There’s definitely someone who’s better at their job than you are at lyfting at all times. If you find a blind spot- what if there’s a hidden camera? If you body conceal- what if police get involved and you get extra charges just for that? What if an employee catches you? What if there’s plainclothes LP? What if there’s LP in general? What if AI software technology recognizes your face as a lyfter from shared company data- leading you to immediately be sussed? What if there was a hidden tag in something you just lyfted? What if there are cops outside the store and an employee decides to alert them? What if employees/ LP are watching you through a blind spot in the store? What if you’re in the process of having a case built against you? I could keep going, however the sad truth is, no matter how good you are at lyfting- if you continually get away successfully- luck played a huge role in that. That is why it’s important to reduce the amount of times where something could go badly meaning reduce the amount of things you decide to lyft in a store. Is a criminal record really worth that viral Tumblr/twitter post? Probably not. I HUGELY recommend visiting multiple stores as opposed to lyfting all in one store

Okay enough yapping from me hehe let’s get into some more general tips :)

- do not go in groups of teens you will immediately be sussed esp if ur around 14-16 years old

- do not wear backpacks like at all! i see many encouraging backpacks at b&n and 1ndig0 and as someone who worked in both of those places- you will be watched. even if you dont realize it.

- totes are a nono bring a bigger purse if you must

- never assume cameras aren’t monitored. Stores are constantly hiring/ changing policies etc to prevent shrink. Use your eyes to scout for cameras do not look up and avoid being in sight of the cameras as best as possible

- coffee= trustworthy?? idk what this phenomenon is- but if you are carrying coffee from starbs or something (dont shop at starbs free Palestine) especially if the cup is see through you will lit not be sussed (as long as ur acting normally)

- if it’s in a box- either open the box and dump the product in your purse / body conceal or don’t lyft it. You’d be surprised how many stores are deciding to tag insides of boxes

- if you beep at the towers do NOT turn around or wait for the opportunity to be caught keep walking and walk right out of the establishment especially if you’re at the mall!!! Leave immediately

- malls are a lot scarier than people think- trust me AI recognition softwares are horrifying if you lyft at malls there’s a 99% chance you’ve already been caught by them lyft with extreme caution and don’t do big Lyfts

- stay away from Sephora they have some of the most aggressive LP I have ever seen in my entire life and will almost always prosecute

- if you plan on walking out with a tag on the item without a care in the world if you’ll beep or not Lp has these fuckass new hard tags that beep themselves. If you trigger the alarm towers the tag will start ‘screaming’ and will not stop no matter what you do- I advise against walkouts like that

- if you notice employees coming up to you way too often and won’t shut up about promos in store or wtv they are onto you do not risk it dump ur shit n leave

- dress to impress. You guys have no idea how good a pair of lulu leggings or the lulu define jacket can do for you- seriously make that investment

- go alone. Nobody knows how to do it better than yourself and if that’s not the case you shouldn’t be lyfting at all if you’re in a group you’ll be sussed so much easier unless you both look extremely well groomed and dressed

- on every tag that displays the brand for example the cardboard tags that lulu leggings have on them displaying the brand- rip it in half. Otherwise it’ll set off the alarm. Well rounded lyfters always find this out the hard way lol It’s a rite of passage

- majority of the time you literally don’t need magnets. Not only is this a sure way to catch a felony I genuinely think it’s useless. There’s always at least one pair of clothes that are not tagged in a well stocked store Idc if that’s not the exact shirt you want don’t get greedy

- branching off of that- try to only lyft in well stocked stores.

Otherwise employees will quickly realize when something has gone missing

-lyft the clothes hangers I’ll never understand why people will Lyft a shirt and not take the hanger? Unless it’s hard tagged it won’t beep slip it in your purse and save money on hangers lol & employees won’t notice empty hangers

- if you go to a changing room and they count your items you have 2 options- do not Lyft any of them orrrr assess the clothes in the changing room pick out only 1-2 you want to Lyft and ensure there are no magnets and rip the tags in half. Slip the hangers in your purse and as you are exiting say “I’m going to be getting these two I left the other 3 hung up in the changing room” the employee will literally not care. Then you find a blind spot and conceal the items. This is tricky and can only be done if employees are distracted and the store is big enough so that the changing room employee cannot see the cash register.

- the more you engage with employees the longer they have to remember what you look like. Be polite and short do not ask for assistance if they offer you a bag don’t freak out. I work retail and we only hand out bags to build customer basket sizes

- if you are not quick with concealing an item don’t even try and just leave ☠️ you should know this by now from my story earlier

- lp collects data on most high shrink items to dictate if those items should be secretly tagged or not- again I work retail and we began hiding tags inside products where nobody except us would have any idea that they’re there. If you like a specific skincare brand don’t lyft a shit tonne in one go from w4lm4rt everytime you go. Instead lift a minimal amount and then go to a non affiliated shop that sells the same product

- don’t build routine of lyfting

At the same store every Monday (idk lmfao, Monday is just an example) they’ll begin to remember you and it won’t be fun when you go in to lyft and

There’s cops waiting with a free UberX cop edition to your nearest prison

- prioritize lyfting essentials as opposed to ‘desirables’ this should be pretty self explanatory and if ur caught in the act (by cops!! only do not fucking talk to LP do not go with them where they tell you to. Run out Get an Uber if you have to and do not return to that store) you can just say “I’m broke and I’m trying to support myself” yada yada yada

Okay that’s all for nowww I’m sleepy but I’ll be making similar threads soon :3

Btw if you guys liked the red flag thingy please lmk bc it was genuinely sm fun to write and I have so many more horrible stories that I can share.. like a scavenger hunt except it’s my own dumbassery

#lyftblr #five finger discount #kleptomania #kl3pto #borrowing #lifting tips #lifting haul #i’m just a girl

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yesimwriting · 10 months ago

Note

hii 💗

so im currently obsessed with best friend!felix and wanted to request that perhaps their relationship evolves to a point where they’re practically dating but they’re both unaware of it

thank youu

a/n omg you understand them so well

----

There are certain expectations attached to Felix's name, weaved into each syllable like delicate stitches in a tapestry that depicts a family crest. You're not unaware of what the world associates with him, not oblivious enough to lack a general idea of what most assume when they think of being close to someone like him.

People would never guess that the best part of being best friends with Felix are the little things, the small gestures that show how careful he can be when he cares.

The girls you usually sit with in your last class changed so drastically when they saw him on the bench outside of your lecture hall. They whispered and giggled and twirled silky hair around their fingers. It made something in your stomach turn to stone... and you still can't figure out why. You'd be hypocritical to fault them for gossip.

They eventually started chatting about the type of girls someone like him must like. That only made things more awkward when Felix finally spotted you and waved you over. They gaped at you, and with Felix waiting, you weren't given the space needed to stumble through an explanation. The only thing you could manage was a shy 'it's not like that' and a sentence you barely remember that used the word 'friend' way too many times to be structurally sound. It didn't stop them from begging you for details next class before you finally walked away.

Now, in Felix's room, his hand on your shoulder, firm enough to be anchoring, you can't help but compare reality with what they must be imagining. The only details you can offer them are mundane. A fact that only makes you more protective of these moments. They wouldn't get it.

You're convinced no one can, so why take their comments to heart? Even Farleigh, who actually does know Felix tries to twist your friendship into something salacious, something worth gossiping about.

"You're tense." His voice comes out so low you're not sure if you're meant to respond. Felix's thumb traces circles against the top of your shoulder. "You said you had a good day today."

Felix reads your mood with a talent that'd make you uneasy if he was anyone else. "I did." The words feel flat, tired, even though your day was objectively good. You had time to stop for a coffee before class, a TA handed back graded exams and you did better than expected, and you finally finished your essay. "Just Tuesday and Thursday classes."

He nods once empathetically, thumb pressing into your skin. "Tired?"

"Yeah."

The two of you are quiet for a moment. Lulls in conversation have a tendency to make you feel the need to compensate. With Felix, the silence never asks to be rushed through. "Want to rest your eyes for a little?"

This wouldn't be the first time you took a nap in Felix's room. It's not exactly a habit--yet--but it's circling that territory. Sometimes he'll go to sleep with you, other times he'll stay up reading to you.

The offer is irritatingly perfect. You want to say yes, but you--ugh. This is what you get for talking to Farleigh. This is ridiculous. There isn't anything unusual or potentially romantic about your friendship with Felix. You're close, and when it comes to Felix, close is all consuming.

You briefly let your eyes shut. "Sounds nice, but I--I have a lot of homework."

In one movement, he lets his hand slip down your arm and his head fall against your shoulder. "C'mon," his breath is warm against your neck, "I'm tired, too."

The weakness in your resolve makes you like yourself a little less. You swallow, mentally preparing yourself to fight against your fondness. "Out late partying?"

He sighs against you, the sound more amused than it wants to be. "Oh, yeah, Oliver and I were out until the ungodly hour of 11:30." You move your arm, nails brushing a few strands of his hair back into place. "I sleep better when you're here."

Felix is always so warm, it's nearly impossible to not get caught up in it. You almost told him that he could have come over. That the movie you went to see with your roommate had ended around 10:30 and that the only reason you were dismissive when he called is because of what Farleigh had said in the library.

Instead, you settle for running your fingers through his hair. "I told you, Nadia and I went to the movies."

He sighs again, the sound a little sharper this time, almost a huff. A smile tugs at your lips. Felix looks up, half-glaring-half-pouting. "You think it's funny?"

"No," you try, extending the syllable in an attempt to prove your innocence.

Something shifts, you feel it before Felix moves. He straightens, taking his weight off you, likely in an attempt to lull you into a false sense of insecurity. You lean back, resting your weight on one hand. The bit of space you're quick enough to create isn't enough to save you.

Felix leans forward, hand finding the shoulder farthest from him. It's instinct to lean back further in an attempt to duck out from beneath his arm. The move paired with a laugh that makes you lose balance proves to be a mistake. Felix is too tall, too inescapable. His other hand finds your side and you have no choice but to let your back hit the mattress.

He's not pinning you down, but he is hovering in a way that makes you think twice about moving. "Felix." It's meant to come off as threatening, but you're still giggling and it only makes him grin.

"What?" You bravely lift an arm, placing your palm flat on his chest. You will yourself to push him away. He pulls a hand back, giving up trapping you in favor of covering the back of your palm with the front of his. "You started it."

"Doesn't sound like me."

His smile widens. "No?"

He pulls your hand away from him, and for a second, you think he might be ready to release you, but then he presses a kiss to the side of your hand. The warmth of the gesture would normally make you dizzy, but with Farleigh's words ringing in your ears...it's impossible to fully relax.

His eyebrows pinch together, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you hum, "Just tired. Like you said."

He gently sets your hand down. "Y'sure you don't want a nap?"

"No." You're only human. "A nap sounds nice. Just need to use the bathroom first."

Felix squeezes your hand once before shifting onto his back. His absence leaches all the heat from your body. Suddenly, it does feel like a damp autumn day.

You sit up, sock clad feet instinctually slipping into Felix's discarded slippers. They're too large, and you always have to remember to watch your step when you steal them, but they're so plush it's worth the caution.

There's a familiar bundle of fabric thrown over the back of the desk chair. You unzip your jacket. The cold air bites at you as you slip off the thin fabric. You grab Felix's jumper, instinctually pulling it over your head. The material engulfs you in his essence.

You shut the door behind you as you step into his bathroom. Why is something so small getting to you so much? And something that Farleigh, of all people, planted in your head. He likes to twist things until they resemble something entertaining or beneficial. We're just friends. Are you sure?

What kind of a question even is that? Obviously, you'd know if you were dating someone. Obviously, you'd know if you were dating Felix. So of course your answer was a little forced and awkward. Farleigh should have teased you about it. Instead, he looked at you oddly, eyebrows pulled together almost sympathetically, and told you he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anyone be that close with their friends. Not even Felix.

Okay--don't think about it. What does Farleigh know about genuine, platonic friendships?

You turn on the sink. Splashing some water on your face will he--a bottle of moisturizer and face wash. Spares that you had picked up for Felix to try, go to's for you during impromptu sleepovers.

You force yourself to look up. Your reflection stares back at you, Felix's jumper sliding off your shoulder, exposing the sleeve of your shirt.

You dab water against your face before shutting off the sink. Maybe some sleep will help. You'll take your nap, and then you and Felix will wake up, and you'll see that everything's the same.

Felix is already beneath the sheets when you step out of the bathroom. You walk to the edge of the bed, sliding off his slippers before climbing into bed.

"Darling?" You hum in response before craning your neck to look at him. Felix's gaze is fixed on the ceiling. "Are y--Did something happen?" You freeze. Has Farleigh been telling other people what he told you? Did all of it circle back to Felix in some embarrassing way? "With us, I mean?"

The clarification is too small, too uncertain to fit him. You lift your head. "What?" His attention is still on what's above. "No." With a sigh, you lean forward until your chin's resting on his stomach. "Of course we're fine." He tilts his head slightly, eyes finally landing on yours. Felix is quiet for a moment, taking in your expression. Treating him differently isn't fair. "Do you think we're too close?"

His expression falters, the slight concern behind his eyes morphing into something more closed off. "You--you think we're too close?"

"No." You don't even have to think about it. Maybe that's what bothered you about what Farleigh said. You don't want to think about what should be different because you know you don't want to feel less close to him.

He doesn't ease, and you can't blame him. You place a hand on his side, smoothing your thumb up and down the fabric of his shirt. "I--just--the other day, Farleigh ran into me in the library, and we started talking and he made some comments...." Felix groans. "About how close we were, and at first, it just felt like Farleigh, and then he said a lot of people assume things and--I--"

"Who cares what other people think?" Felix shifts, his fingers tracing patterns against your back. "We're happy with how we are."

You smile, "Yeah." It's probably easy to dismiss opinions and rumors when you're someone like Felix. You decide that it's okay to borrow his worldview. "I am happy."

Felix grins, available hand moving to grab yours. He kisses your palm before placing your hand back on his side. He squeezes your hand against the space between his ribs and hip. "I'm happy, too."

You grin, angling your head downwards to press a kiss against his chest before laying down fully. Felix's knuckles run up and down your back. It's soothing, making everything else disappear long enough to let you fall asleep.

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae

i love how much you guys seem to like bestfriend!felix 😭 i have some more requests/fics for him coming,, someone in one of my asks said they weren't sure if i was still taking requests for him and i definitely am,, he's so fun to write for

#saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton #bestfriend!felix #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

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jji-lee · 8 months ago

Note

can you write something jeno pls :(

of course! i decided to try something new so lmk how you guys feel about it! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy! ☺

dating jeno means a lot of dates and i mean a lot. every time you two go out together he'll make it a date. biking by the river? it's a date. going to get drinks at a coffee shop? it's a date. going to get groceries? of course it's a date. anywhere with you is a date to jeno.

dating jeno means presents galore. price does not matter to him, it can range from a flower he picked on the way home or a custom made ring with both your initials on it. jeno loves giving presents!

dating jeno means always touching. jeno loves when people know you're his so in public he always has his hands on you. whether it's a simple hand on your thigh or an arm around you waist, jeno needs to be touching you.

dating jeno means stealing his clothes, well actually, he gives them to you. jeno's favorite look on you is his clothes. his oversized hoodie, a simple tee, and even his sweatpants, he prefers to see you comfy in his clothes.

dating jeno means "my" being put in front of every pet name, again, jeno loves knowing you're his. "my girl" "my princess" "my baby" any pet name put "my" in front of it and jeno is on board.

dating jeno means late night talks. jeno isn't usually a big converser, but late at night he starts opening up to you and telling you every little detail about his life. likewise he loves listening to your voice so he encourages you to go on and on about anything and everything.

dating jeno means the best hugs ever. he is a walking muscle pillow, how would his hugs not be comfy? he loves to hug you, squeezing you until you have to come up for air. he also loves backhugs, the ones where he can put his face in your neck and smell you, leaving little kisses there that tickle your skin.

dating jeno means unlimited love. you're his and he would not have it any other way. jeno is not afraid to say "i love you", a cheeky grin on his face when you say that you love him back.

#🐶#jeno #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #nct #nct imagines #nct dream #nct fluff #request

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avianyuh · 2 months ago

Text

Boring | Min Yoongi

Chapter Two

Summary:The next morning, you're back in the office and your friend wants details. You expect that things will go back to normal between you and Yoongi, after all, nothing really happened...

Chapters; [one] [two]

“I can't believe he made you stay at the office until 11 o'clock at night! I was so worried when you never left the building, I waited for you but you weren’t answering your phone.”, Gina, one of your two work friends probed as you recited your night to her in the break room the next morning. You stirred your coffee with one of those disposable sticks to make sure the cream and sugar get dissolved. Gina had noticed that you hadn't left when everyone else did. “How in the world did you spend that long around that guy? He's so quiet and, don't hate me for saying this but…he's boring.”, you found the sentiment outdated knowing what you know now. You walked out of the break room and back towards your cubicle. You glanced towards his office, but you couldn't see inside since the blinds were still shut. You weren't sure if his meeting with Mr.Smith and his people had started yet, or if Yoongi had even arrived at the office. You hoped that everything went well and Yoongi was able to keep his cool since there were quite a few times last night where you both got a little worked up at the sheer audacity the other party had to spring such a huge revamp of the file on you so last minute. At the end of your night with Yoongi, he was still feeling friendly. He had thanked you for staying and he even apologized for the things he had said, specifically threatening to make your job nonexistent by giving you no work assignments. But just like on the couch when you were eating, as you gathered your coat, bag and computer, there was…a moment between the two of you. You were heading for the door, but Yoongi seemed like he was trying to be a gentleman, so he leaned you to open the door. And, he got so close to your face, so when you turned to look at him, your lips were virtually touching.

You had looked up at him, but he was looking down at you. And just like how you were staring at his lips very briefly earlier that evening, now he was doing the same. His eyes darted from your lips, back to your own eyes. And you thought for a minute you had gone crazy because dare you say, his eyes looked inviting? You weren't sure what to think of it but after a few seconds he seemed to snap himself out of whatever he was trying to do and backed away, clearing his throat and murmuring a very awkward, quiet Good Night. You did the same as you tried to play it cool and walk towards the elevator slowly, but deep inside you wanted to make a run for it. Not necessarily because you wanted to leave him, but because you weren't aware of how much more sexual tension you could continue to stir between the two of you before someone did something stupid that no employer should ever do with his employee.

However, you weren't going to mention the way you ended your night to Gina. Mainly because nothing technically happened, so really…there was nothing of importance to mention. “Listen Gina, I know we constantly joke that he has no soul, but I spent 6 hours locked in his office with him alone, and I actually had a good time. He's kinda funny if you get him to relax and sit down and talk with you.” Gina raised her eyebrow at you as she pursed her lips.

“You're excusing working unpaid overtime because he cracked a few jokes? What do you wanna date him or something?” she questioned, looking at you like you had grown two heads.

“Um, I was paid for the overtime and no I don't want to date him. What's wrong with giving someone a compliment? All I meant is that he's not as bad as we thought…which is a good thing because that means our opinions of him were wrong.” you looked at Gina, and noticed that she was rolling her eyes. “I feel a lot better knowing that he's not ALL about work, he actually has a life too like the rest of us.” Gina rolled her eyes at you before putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Girl you’re whipped for that man. I see you all the time giving him those lovey dovey eyes. But to the rest of us, he either completely ignores you unless he has to ask you something, or he gives you those glares if he sees you away from your desk.” You had heard those stories before from others. I guess he wasn’t found of the office chatter. But in your experience, he never bothered with you until yesterday, Gina claims he gave her one of his signature glares once and ever since she’s had a vendetta against him.

You shook your head at her as you approached your cubicle. “I think it’s because he has really intense eyes”, you giggled as Gina scoffed.

“Shut up. See, that’s something a person who’s whipped would say.” You settled down in your chair as you and Gina said your goodbyes until you’d see each other again at lunch. . You fully expected that Yoongi would go back to the way he had always treated you. And by that you meant that he wouldn't bother with you at all anymore. A part of you was sad to think about that because you truly did feel like you got to know him a little better. And you'd be lying if you didn't admit that you were intrigued by him. But on the other hand, the less delusional side if you knew it was all strictly business and that he was most likely only being nice to you to get more productive work out of you. And all the eye-lip contact could have been something you had imagined in a state of sleep deprivation mixed with your infatuation with your ridiculously attractive, mysterious boss. Who knows what was going on in his head. But you had to tell yourself that it was probably a one time occurrence and you had to move on. Well, that was until he came waltzing out of the elevator. Dressed just as fine as usual in one of his suits. He carried his briefcase with him and nodded as he heard the many Hellos being sent his way from all of the staff as he walked past their desks. And then, as if everything was going in slow motion, he glanced over at you and gave a subtle, close lipped smile in your direction. The eye contact felt intense and it felt like your body was sitting on pins and needles. The way he made you feel so jumpy, he did a better job of waking you up than any cup of coffee could. The interaction was at most three seconds, but that was more than enough for you to think that you had left an impression on him as well. The day went by fast. Thursdays were just as boring as Wednesdays considering you still had another full day until your leisurely weekend. You were packing up your things as Gina and your other office friend Hana waited for you.

“Hurry up Y/N”, Hana exclaimed, she was cranky because of her poor choice to wear new shoes that weren’t broken into to work. “My feet feel like they’re being stabbed!”, you laughed as you shoved your laptop into your bag, throwing it over your shoulder and turning to face your friends.

“Calm down, I’m ready.”, As the three of you walked toward the elevator, amongst the quiet side conversations about your afterwork plans, all of you turned around upon hearing someone clear their throat. And there he was. Min Yoongi stood a few feet away in the middle of the office aisle with his arms crossed.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but if I could borrow Y/N for a second.”, he asked, his voice low, his eyes on you the whole time.

“Oh-”, before you could reply, Gina cut you off.

“With no disrespect Sir, she gave you six hours of her time after work yesterday, I think the least you could do is let her go home at a normal time today…” Gina snapped and you nudged her arm, a silent back off. You looked at her and silently pleaded with your eyes for her to ease up and not make you look bad in front of him. The last thing you wanted was for Yoongi to think that you were bad mouthing him to your coworkers.

“No, it has nothing to do with staying after, but I would like to point out if Ms. Y/L/N hadn’t already explained, it was last minute for the both of us and Y/N was paid for all overtime.” Before Gina could respond and get all of you fired, you intervened.

“I did explain that, she’s just tired”, you let out a nervous laugh, “Listen, I’m sure this won’t take long, just wait for me outside, okay?”, you asked them as Hana dragged Gina towards the elevator. Once the doors were closed, you turned back to Yoongi. “I’m so sorry about that. She told me that she waited for a half an hour yesterday but I never came down so I think she’s holding a grudge from yesterday. “, you tried to explain as he waved you off.

“Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to say thank you again, I was in and out of meetings all day which is why I didn’t come by sooner.”, You found it heart warming that he wanted to thank you again. You hoped in the back of your mind that this was his attempt at small talk again, but you weren’t sure.

“You don’t need to say thank you again, you were very kind and patient last night, plus you ordered food and everything. Honestly, I was just going to go home and watch TV anyways, it gave me something different to do for a night.”, you explained, noticing that your response seemed to put a smile on his face.

“So was I, that's always my after work routine.”, he responded. You averted your eyes, as his gaze felt like he was burning a hole into you.

“Well, if you need any more help, I’m available”, you said shyly as you started to back up towards the elevator.

“Noted”, he responded. He waved at you again before turning back around and walking back towards his office. But before you could press the button to close the doors, you heard him start talking again, “I have an assignment to give tomorrow morning, I’m coming in early tomorrow so come by when you get here.” You nodded at him and with that, he was out of your sight. And now you were really looking forward to tomorrow.

#bts #suga #bts suga #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #suga fanfic #suga x reader #bts fanfction #bts imagines #bts scenarios #yoongi fanfic #yoongi #bts writing #bts x reader

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roseychains · 8 months ago

Note

could you maybe do relationship/nsfw headcanons for gojo and nanami. Please

Relationship and nsfw h/c for Gojo and Nanami ~

A/n: thanks for the request! This was pretty fun writing, I enjoyed it a lot and kinda went crazy ;3

C/w: fluff, sillyness. As for nsfw, written by a minor!

Sfw

Gojo

Major gift giver!! It’s his love language and he certainly has the money to do so. If he sees something that reminds him of you, he’ll buy it for you. If he thinks you’ll like it, he buys it for you. If he thinks it’s a cool thing, he’ll buy it to show you

Sooo touchy. He’s clingy and cuddly. He always has his hands on you. Holding yours, snaked around your waist, hip, around your neck, on your thigh, it doesn’t matter. He needs to hold you. When he gets home from particularly draining missions, he just wants to wrap his arms around you and sleep

Speaking of sleep, he’s really sleepy. And snores loud as fuck, almost monstrously so. That’s only for day naps, at night, he won’t let himself sleep before you are asleep

He sometimes has bad dreams, dreams where something happens to you and will wake up and pull you closer. He’s gentle enough to not wake you up but holding you is a comfort to him

Loves to take you shopping and play dress up with you. He will pick out clothes with you then send you to the changing room, and have you walk out real quick to show him how you look

He loves showering together, and he loves washing your hair for you and vice versa

You play games together, and he rages. Y’all definitely have some shared concels for playing things together, and he will throw a fit when he loses

He likes helping you cook. He will get things out for you, cut veggies and wash the dishes while you run the kitchen

But sometimes he cooks for you, doing it all in an apron that says “kiss the chef” or something cheesy

Buys you the most expensive jewelry, and urges you to wear it anytime you go out

Hugs from behind!! Lots of sneaky teasing touches. Pinches you playfully. Slaps ur ass then runs knowing your about to turn around and get his 10x harder

He acts like he’s smaller than he is. Will definitely ask to be little spoon, but you end up wrapping around him like a backpack. Sits on YOUR lap, etc

Always wants a kiss. Never let’s you leave the house without a kiss, and vise versa

He will pose for you. Pose for you to draw him, pose for pics, etc

Let’s you practice hair, nails, makeup, and anything else traditionally feminine on him. He thinks he looks fabulous

Will attempt to take bites of your food when you aren’t looking

Nanami

Such a gentlemen. He will chauffeur you everywhere, open your door for you, carry you when your feet hurt, pay for 100% of all dates, treats you like a princess

Speaking of princess treatment, he makes you breakfast in bed “just because”

Definition of a male wife. He does all the cleaning and helps with the cooking, always has the bed made and the house tidy by the time you get home

Brushes and does your hair for you, learned how to specifically for you

Such a romantic. I’m talking candle lit dinners, rose petals adorning the bedroom, bubble baths and more

Surprisingly super shy in public. You have to break him out of his shell a little bit

He secretly wears women’s perfume when he can. He thinks it smells so much nicer than cologne

Puts your needs first down to the most minimal details. Not making you sit next to strangers on trains, letting you get the entire hotel bed to yourself, letting you shower first with the hot water, etc

He takes any and all of your injuries seriously. Even a small paper cut he will have you wash and put a bandage on it to prevent infection

He also doesn’t take any risks. He makes sure anytime you guys are outside for an extended period of time that your wearing sunscreen. When you guys are in grass, he’s making sure you have on some kind of bug spray on your ankles

Brews coffee everymorning like clockwork for the both of you. He likes it black but bought a ton of stuff for you, so he makes your coffee Starbucks style the way you like it with cream and stuff

Watches you sleep, not in a creepy way. More in like your so beautiful he can’t keep his eyes off way

He’s super into yoga, will go to yoga classes with you. He’s so stiff he needs it

He reads a lot of books, and will geek out about them to you

Frequently accidently sleeps with his glasses on, you’ll wake up beside him and he will just. Have them on. And when he gets up in the morning to take them off he has red marks around his eyes

Nsfw

Gojo

Such a fucking tease. He LOVES to get you worked up before giving you what you want

Edging and overstim both ways. He loves to get you so close to that edge, then pull out and make you whine or beg for it. He also really enjoys making yoy cum over and over until your crying and pleading with him to stop. As for himself, his main motive for edging himself is to help him last longer. Lord knows he can’t stand more than 10 minutes inside you without cumming. He also loves it when you milk him for all he’s worth, ridding him into tears

Absolutely into sensory deprivation. He gets a kick out of either you, not being able to know his next move keeping you in the dark, or him, being at your mercy

Speaking of sensory stuff, he fucking loves it when you wear his blindfold. Blocking your vision, you can only feel his touches and not see them

He cums so much, everywhere all the time. His favorite place to cum has to be all over your face. Have you sucking him off, but before he cums he pulls out and jerks it a few times before painting your face with his seed. It’s so hot to him, seeing you covered in it

He might even take a picture if you let him. He’s really into picture/video taking, just to have for himself. Whenever your not there, he can pull out his file of lewd photos and videos of you two

He is soooo vocal. He’s loud and his moans are whiny. He doesn’t hold back though, he has no shame. Matter of fact he wants everyone to know what you do to him

Speaking of, he’s a bit of a risk taker. He’s not past sneaking into a changing room for you to help him with the boner he got looking at you in those clothes

While he may cum fast, he can still last several rounds without break. He is the strongest, after all

Loves oral giving and receiving because it’s so messy. He loves it when your drooling all over his cock, or when his chin is covered in your slick

He’s a switch, but when he’s on bottom he’d moan if you step on his cock. Such a slutty submissive, and a brat too. He’d do things to get you angry so you punish him for it later <3

Definitely has considered 3somes with geto, but never brought it up

I can see him being into roleplay

He’s not insanely girthy, but he is LONGG and pretty. Has a cute curve at the end that’s perfect for you

He loves fucking your tits

His fingers are slim and long, and when he fingers you he will make you see stars

Thinks it’s so hot when he gets you to squirt

Somno with consent

If you need to be clean right that moment he will do so, but aftercare with him usually he prefers to cuddle up and sleep then clean up in the morning

Nanami

Such a service dom. He’s a provider, and that nature sticks in the bedroom. He lives to please you, and will make you cum several times before even freeing his cock from his tight pants

He would definitely dabble in bdsm. Specifically, what he enjoys is bondage and brat taming

With bondage, he has it all. It may be a small fluffy pair of handcuffs binding your wrists behind your back, two a sturdy rope tying your ankles and wrists to the corner of the bed, to full on shibari, ropes all over your body

Absolutely uses his tie and/or belt to bind you

Brat taming was something you insisted, and when he tried it he found out he got a kick out of it too. It started with you teasing him all day, and when you begged him to be rough with you and put you in your place who is he to deny you?

Both kinks are done with upmost gentleness and care. Of course. He may also engage in light impact play, small spanks on your ass and even your clit. Nothing enough to hurt, just a little love tap to startle you

His hands drive you insane. His hands are so big, they wrap perfectly around your wrists, neck, hips, waist, etc. they also reach all the parts inside you just the way you like

While he often takes the leading role, he’s not opposed to letting you ride him to get yourself off when he doesn’t have the energy

He’s not very loud, mostly grunts and quite muffled moans come from him

So much praise. He’s constantly reassuring you through the whole ordeal, calling you beautiful, gorgeous, how well your doing, how good you are for him, etc

He would degrade you if you really wanted. Again, you’d have to tell him because he wouldn’t ever say such things to you but when your begging him to say mean things to you, he’s nothing but a pleaser

Cockwarming is a big turn on. He’s a busy man, so when he has work to do but you wanna get off, he will let you sit on his cock

Similarly, he also likes watching you ride his thigh. Your wet pussy grinding up and down on his clothed leg does something to him

Aftercare god. As soon as you guys are done he’s running a bath, carrying you to it, washing you off as you just lay back. After he drys you off, he’s carrying you back to the bed and wrapping you with his arms

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cinnaleaf · 2 months ago

Text

ESSENCE OF US - CH 4: YOU, ME, US*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 3 HERE | MASTERLIST | READ CH 5 HERE

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: extreme fluff, SMUT, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), language, implied anxiety genre: fluff, angst, slow(ish) burn romance wc: ~6.5k a/n: y/n did a number on this man, he's enamored! i wanted to evoke every emotion with this one. hopefully it worked bc i had to dig deep in my feels for this.

You were already awake when Camille barged in, coffee in hand with a grin plastered across her face. The scent of jasmine filled the room from some flowers Trent sent earlier; the jasmine flower was woven intricately into the stems of a garden rose bouquet, curling through the air like a gentle reminder of him. It made your heart race every time you caught a whiff, butterflies enveloping your body as you tried to think of anything other than match day. “Okay mystery girl,” Camille announced as she plopped onto your couch without hesitation. “How are we feeling about being in WAG territory?” You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch cushion, “Ughhh, you’re not helping Camille. I’m not a WAG!” You took a sip of coffee, biting your lip as the feeling of uncertainty twisted around in your stomach. “I don't know if I'm ready for all of this. It's a lot.” Camille stood up, giving you her full attention, “Real talk, if you can survive running a business then you can survive this. You're the most capable person I know.”

You smiled nervously, “It's just...different. Everything is so intense. It's happening so fast.” Camille raised a brow, her curiosity growing. “Okay..I gotta know. How did this even start? You didn't tell me you knew him already!” You exhaled, setting your coffee aside as you explained the story in full detail, Camille's eyes widened in disbelief. “Your meet-cute with TAA happened on a train?? Why the fuck was he on a train?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It was completely random..and then it took me so long to realize it was him. He said he just wants to be like everyone else.” Camille's jaw dropped, “So, he could have a private jet and he just... chooses to be on the train? That's kind of hot.” You rolled your eyes, but the nerves still lingered below the surface. “Yeah but..I just—I don't knowww. I feel like I'm getting swept up in it because it feels like a fairytale.”

Camille sat back down, leaning in as her expression softened with her trademark sass. “Y/N, you've bumped into this man three different times in two different countries. Sometimes you just gotta ride the wave. But…” she paused, raising a finger, “keep your head on straight, yeah? From what I know, Trent's great but he's still a baller at the end of the day.. so, no tripping head over heels immediately. Just see where it goes if that’s what you really want.” You smiled, still feeling the weight of the situation clinging to you. “Ugh, but what if it's too good to be true?” Camille shrugged, giving you a no nonsense look. “Maybe, maybe not. You can still see where it goes. Worst case scenario? You have some crazy stories you can use as inspiration for a new line. Best case? Liverpool’s most gorgeous WAG.”

The nerves in your stomach were hard to shake as you settled into your seat with Camille. The weight of Trent's name on your back felt heavier than you anticipated, it felt like there was a spotlight shining down on you. You didn't want Camille to catch on to that though.

“Okay Y/N..how are we feeling now?” Camille teased as she nudged your arm. You rolled your eyes, snorting “I'm not feeling anything right now. Just trying not to have a public meltdown.”

She gave you a side eye as she laughed, “Stop being dramatic and just enjoy the match girl.”

Camille kept cracking jokes to try and soothe your nerves as the match started, it helped, but only for a moment. You felt a rush of excitement watching Trent on the pitch, it was like he was born to be out there. You tried so hard to focus on him and the game, but every time you caught someone glancing in your direction your nerves spiked again. You leaned toward Camille, keeping your voice low “Do you think anyone’s noticed?”

Camille scanned the crowd, looking around dramatically before turning back to you with a grin. “You're wearing his shirt..in the best section. But nah, you're blending in.” She winked, amused at your discomfort. You placed your focus back on Trent, watching him on the pitch as he sprinted across. Part of you wanted to shout and cheer him on, but the other part of you was still battling the fear of being seen, especially in his shirt. As if the universe decided to dial up the pressure, Trent glanced up into the stands, locking his eyes on yours as his familiar smile spread across his face and blew you a kiss. You tried to keep your cool, but the butterflies in your stomach were having none of it. Camille noticed immediately, nudging you excitedly. “Ooo Y/N, look at him! That's all for you!! We're getting a highlight reel moment right now.” You smiled, feeling a bit more confident as Trent's eyes caught yours before he turned back to the match.

But then the talking started. It was faint at first but grew louder as people stared between you, Camille, and the name on your back. Your heart began racing and you could feel the attention shift as if everyone was putting two and two together. Camille noticed your expression change immediately and swiftly leaned in, her voice low and firm. “Hey hey. Eyes on the pitch, not on them.” You swallowed, taking a deep breath as you tried to shift your focus back to the match, but the stares were hard to ignore. Camille nudged you again, pointing down toward the pitch. “Look at him. Don't let them get to your head. He wants you to be here. Remember that.”

You took another deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. She was right. You weren't here for anyone else, just Trent. You refocused on the pitch, feeling your nerves calm slightly. Camille, who was always the best at calming your anxiety leaned in and whispered “He's been looking at you so much. Just focus on that.” And with that, you found yourself slightly more relaxed as you watched Trent's presence on the field. At the end of the day, none of the cameras or whispers mattered. The only eyes you cared about were already on you.

When the whistle blew for halftime the crowd erupted into chatter and movement. You exhaled deeply, grateful for the break while Camille stretched dramatically next to you. “Okay, I'm getting a bev. Want anything?” Camille asked, already scanning around the crowd. “Just water,” you replied, glancing around nervously as fans moved about.

“Water?? We’re at Anfield babe. You don’t want anything stronger?” Camille smirked, nudging you playfully. You laughed, shaking your head, “No thanks. I need to stay calm, not get buzzed.” Camille rolled her eyes, “Fine, water it is. Be right back.” As she disappeared into the crowd you leaned back into your seat, trying to focus on the positive energy surrounding you. The tension in your chest started to loosen but then you heard a conversation happening behind you.

“Isn’t that the girl who owns ‘Love Notes’?” a voice asked, which provoked your curiosity immediately. You froze, daring not to turn around but listening intently. “Oh my god, yeah! It is her,” a second voice chimed in. “I follow her on Insta, her brand is blowing up. Did you see the new collection she teased?”

Your heart skipped a beat as your body stiffened, unsure of how to feel about being noticed so quickly in public.

“Yeah she's killing it. I’ve been dying to work with her” the first voice continued, “I was actually thinking about reaching out to see if she’d be down to collab for her next launch. She seems so sweet.”

A mix of pride and panic built in your chest. They didn’t seem to notice that they were talking loud enough for you to hear them. “She definitely has the ‘it’ factor, she’s gorgeous. But you know how it goes…one bad headline and it's over.” the second voice said casually, as if they were discussing the weather and not the career you worked your ass off for. Your heart sank as you took in their words.

“Especially if she’s really with Trent. That's all anyone will care about. The press is going to eat her alive, poor girl.”

Camille’s words from a couple of days before echoed in your mind.

Don’t give them more fuel. Just be chill. But it felt like it was already too late for that. People were talking about you regardless, you were suddenly feeling overwhelmed, a spiral of panicked thoughts repeating in your mind.

Is that really what’s going to happen?

Camille returned, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Here’s your water, Boring.” she teased, handing you a bottle before plopping back down in her seat. “Anything exciting happen?” You forced a smile, trying to push away the sudden stab of discomfort before staring blankly down at the pitch, “Nope, just enjoying the view.” But your mind was racing. The two girls behind you had planted a seed of doubt in your mind, one you just couldn't shake. You worked too hard to build your business from the ground up and the thought of being reduced to ‘Trent’s girlfriend’— if it ever even went that far, gnawed at you. You tried to shake it off and focus on the match, but your fears lingered like a heavy rain cloud.

What if this really does change everything? What if this overshadows everything I’ve built?

When the second half started, the cheering of the crowd faded into the background as you mulled over the weight of the strangers’ words. You hated that it was affecting you so much, but you didn’t want to be reduced to another excerpt in Trent’s life. Camille noticed your silence and leaned in, “You okay?” she asked in a concerned voice. You nodded but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. Every time Trent touched the ball the crowd erupted and your heart pounded. There was no denying the connection with Trent, it was there from the very beginning, but this public life?

It terrified you.

Liverpool won but you barely registered it. The uncertainty that had been swirling around in your chest was a full storm, pulling you inside your head as you overanalyzed every little thing that had occurred since meeting Trent on the train. Your phone vibrated in your lap, thrusting you back into reality.

T: Meet me by the side exit, we can head out.

You exhaled, grateful he understood how you felt about being in the spotlight. Despite having his life on display, he was growing increasingly mindful of your boundaries when it came to your personal life.

On my way.

Camille nudged you playfully, noticing another shift in your mood when you looked at your phone. “Oop, is that your man?”

You nodded, speaking quietly, “Not my man yet..but yes. He wants to head out. I just don't want this to blow up.” Camille squeezed your arm in support, “Don't let it. Control the narrative. Go have fun, babe.” You appreciated her words but as you slipped through the crowd towards the exit, you started to wonder how long it would be before Trent's world came crashing directly into yours. You made your way through the corridor near the exit, spotting Trent leaning up against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets. You admired how easy it was for him to look so good without trying, just being around him made you feel calm..and the view wasn’t bad either.

“You again?” he teased, looking up at you. “First it was the train, the café, Paris, now Anfield?” I'm starting to think you're stalking me.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes, playfully pushing your hand against his chest. “You can’t escape me now.” Trent chuckled as he pulled you closer. “Y’know..we did everything backwards. Random meets, sex..but we haven't had a proper first date.” You raised an eyebrow, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, “And whose fault is that?” He smirked, leaning down slightly to meet your eye. “My fault for sure. But I'll fix that real soon.” You grinned, lightly massaging the back of his neck with your fingertips. “I'll hold you to that.” He gave you a quick peck on the lips, “Enjoy the match?” he asked, in a soft but curious voice. You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Yeah..it was fun. Parts of it anyway.” Trent pulled back slightly, his smile faltering. “Parts of it??” You sighed, glancing down at the ground before meeting his eyes. “Everything is moving so fast..people are talking. I just don’t want to lose myself in all this.” His expression softened as he gently cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him directly. “I get it Y/N. It’s a lot. But I won’t let that happen to you, you’ve worked too hard.” You smiled, leaning into his touch; his reassurance meant the world to you, but you still had some lingering doubts in the back of your mind. You took a deep breath, deciding it would probably be best to lighten the mood.

“So…where are we going for our first date?” you teased, as you and Trent headed toward the car. He grinned, opening the car door for you, “I was thinking we could do a private cooking class. We could make something fancy..it’ll be just us and the chef. Lowkey..no pressure.” You slid into the passenger seat, raising a brow, “You? Cooking??” Trent laughed as he got into the driver's seat. “Don't doubt me! I have some skills..sorta. But that's what the chef is for. We can have fun, maybe a little competition.” You giggled, buckling your seatbelt. “Okay..but don't be mad when you lose.” He leaned over, kissing you quickly before starting the car. “Oh yeah? We'll see about that Y/N.”

After arriving at Trent’s, he led you through his house, his hand resting on your back as you navigated the space before settling on the couch for a cuddle. The two of you had been lounging for hours, your feet resting in Trent’s lap. The TV hummed in the background with whatever show you decided to binge, but you really weren’t paying attention anymore. You stretched a bit, glancing at the time, and sighed. “I should probably go…” you said softly, trying to prepare yourself mentally but not really wanting to get up. “Gotta get back to work. I still have so much to do.”

Trent, who was absentmindedly running his fingers along your legs, smirked. “Or you could stay longer.” You laughed, but the way his hands were sliding up your leg made you feel a little dizzy. “I..I can't. I have to work.” He leaned forward, placing a kiss on your ankle “I'll go with you tomorrow. I’ll help,” he muttered. You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully. “You?? What are you going to do? Stand guard all day?”

“Maybe” he said with a grin. “Just teach me. Like how you’re learning my world, I want to learn yours.” Your heart rate increased as his kisses trailed higher, reaching your knee.

“I can't think when you're doing that” you whined, trying to keep your composure but failing miserably. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was working. “Then don't think.” he whispered in a low and husky voice, making you thrum with need. You bit your lip, trying to stay focused.

C'mon.. be strong. Don't let him distract you Y/N, you told yourself.

His kisses moved to your neck, your mental strength quickly slipping away. Your body was reacting faster than your brain could keep up. “I really need to get going..” you managed to say, not really sounding convincing at all.

“Stay,” he suggested as his lips moved dangerously close to your ear. “Just stay the night and I'll take you back in the morning. I’ll wake us up.” You tried to focus on the reasonable part of your brain. The part that knew you had to get up early to meet deadlines, but Trent's lips found your neck again and your brain went foggy. “Trent..” you tried, though your voice betrayed you. “I can't just—”

“Why not?” he interrupted, moving his lips to your collarbone. “I'll go with you tomorrow. It'll be fine.” Your body started reacting before you could come up with a decent argument. His kisses were soft, so slow, and perfect with each one sending waves of heat to your core. All rational thoughts dissipating. “Y/N, you know you want to,” he whispered.

Oh, he was absolutely fucking right and that was the problem.

Your heart was racing as his hand moved to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer. You were rapidly losing the battle to keep it together. "I really..should..go," you barely managed to say, it sounded weak even to your own ears. You could barely breathe let alone think straight. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, voice full of promise. “I'll make it worth your while.” You let out a soft moan, barely able to hold it back as he kissed you deeper. Your thoughts of leaving were long gone, being drowned out by the feeling of being wanted, desired and completely out of control.

“Okay..I’ll stay,” you managed to say in a faint whisper, but he heard it. He pulled you onto his lap swiftly, your legs straddling him. “Mmm good,” he murmured, his hands roaming your body as they reached for the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “You looked so fucking good in my shirt today. But I need it off now.” He lifted the shirt over your head, immediately moving to the clasp of your bra to unhook it. You giggled, running your hands up his chest as you began to roll your hips in a teasing motion. “Ride me, baby. I wanna see you move,” he whispered.

You bit your lip, rolling your hips against his lap as you began to feel him harden between your thighs. The sensation made you gasp and Trent let out a groan as his hands squeezed your hips. “Fuck, you feel so good already.” He lifted you up off his lap, pulling your bottoms and underwear off before removing his own. You shifted your hips, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock as he filled you completely. The feeling made both of you gasp as your hands tightened on his shoulders. You started to roll your hips in a slow, but teasing rhythm. Trent groaned as his fingers dug into your waist.

“You like it when I ride you?” you asked, your voice breathy as you moved your hips with more urgency against him. “I fucking love it,” he mumbled as his head fell back against the couch. “You look–fuck..so fucking pretty on top of me Y/N.” His praise encouraged you to move your hips faster and harder as you rode him. Every roll of your hips sent waves of pleasure through you as your moans turned into desperate gasps. “Write your name on me baby,” Trent growled, his voice now strained as his hands tightened on your waist. “I wanna see you really fuck me.”

You laughed, not fully understanding what he meant. “My name?? Like this?” You started to spell your name with your hips, continuing to grind against him. “Yeahhh. Just..like..that.” he groaned, thrusting his cock up into you in a way that made you gasp loudly. “Look at you taking me so good baby.” Your laughter quickly turned into loud moans due to the intensity of his thrusts, each one driving you closer and closer to an orgasm. The passion between you two was off the charts. Every touch and sound pushed both of you closer to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

“Oh my goddd. Trent...I can’t–” you gasped as your body began trembling, the tension inside of you snapping as you continued to ride through your orgasm despite your thighs burning from exhaustion. Trent groaned beneath you as he watched the way your body shook with pleasure. “Gonna make me cum moaning my name like that.” he grunted, his voice rough as he thrust into one last time, his cum spilling inside of you.

For a moment, you both stayed tangled in each other, still trembling from the intensity. You were breathless and slumped against his chest as the aftermath of your orgasm washed over you. Once you caught your breath, a wicked thought crossed your mind. Before Trent could fully recover, you slipped off his lap and kneeled between his legs as you parted his thighs. “What are—”

You silenced him with a kiss to his inner thigh, “Shhh.. just relax,” you whispered in a teasing voice. Trent's breath hitched as soon as he realized what you were about to do. His fingers tangled in your hair as his body tensed with anticipation. You licked a slow, deliberate path on his shaft, pausing as you reached a small, sensitive patch of skin just below his balls. You flicked your tongue there and his reaction was instant. “Oh fuckk—” Trent gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily as a deep groan escaped him. “Holy shit.” You smiled, loving the way he reacted to you. You licked that spot again, teasing him with enough pressure to make him squirm. His hands tightened in your hair as his head fell back against the couch. His body was trembling with each flick of your tongue, his moans filling the room as he let out a string of curses.

“You're unreal,” he moaned in a strained voice. You continued your slow assault, your tongue tracing the sensitive line along the underside of his dick before swirling around the head. You looked up at him through your lashes as your lips curled into a wicked smile. You sucked gently on the tip before moving back down in a zigzag pattern with your tongue. Trent groaned loudly, his body shaking as his hips bucked toward your mouth.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” he gasped, his voice filled with disbelief and pleasure. You didn't answer him. Instead, you wrapped your lips around him fully and took him deeper, your tongue working in a rhythm that had him at your mercy. “Shit..keep going..please," he moaned as his grip on your hair tightened the harder you sucked. Your movements were purposeful and teasing. “Fuck. Baby, I'm gonna cum.” Hearing him moan like that spurred you on, and you hallowed out your cheeks to take him deeper; your tongue still tracing the sensitive spot beneath the head that had him trembling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm cumming baby,” Trent gasped as his body tensed beneath you. You didn't pull away, you kept his cock in your mouth as he spilled into you, his groans loud and raw as he came hard. You swallowed every last drop, your lips still wrapped around him as you continued to suck him gently through his aftershocks to savor the taste of him. Trent's body slumped against the couch, his chest heaving as he dragged a hand over his hair lazily. “What the fuck Y/N?” he muttered in disbelief. “You're something else.”

You grinned as you wiped the corner of your mouth, climbing back up next to him to nestle into his side. “I told you to relax.” Trent laughed, pulling you into his arms and giving you a deep kiss. “You're stuck with me now. I'm never letting you go.”

“Good.” you whispered against his lips. “I have more where that came from.”

After spending some extra time on the couch enraptured in the night's events, you glanced at your phone and your eyes widened. It was already 1AM, and as much as you loved spending time with Trent, you had to wake up in a few hours. You felt Trent shift underneath you, his fingers brushing over your back. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and you knew he wasn't done just yet.

“Don't even start.” you stated, already knowing where this was headed. As much as you didn't want to admit it, you were tired after so many rounds. “What'd I do? I'm just enjoying my view.” Trent grinned as his hand traveled up your waist. You laughed as you nudged him playfully. “Well 'your view' is getting up to shower and go to bed.” He groaned, dramatically throwing his head against the couch. “You trying to run away from me now?” You rolled your eyes, standing up to make your way to the bathroom as he watched your every move. “I'm not running away. I just don't want to be all sweaty and gross.” He was already up and following you, “Damn. You're just gonna leave me out here like that..after all we've been through?” You shot an amused look at him over your shoulder, “Why are you being so dramatic?? It's just a shower.”

Before you could say another word, he caught up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned to face him, your back pressed against the sink as you tried to hold back a laugh. “You're not going to let me shower in peace, huh?” Trent's hands moved to cup your chin as his lips brushed against yours in a teasing kiss. “Nah, not a chance,” he muttered before giving you proper, deep and slow kisses.

“Trent..” you murmured between kisses. “If you don't stop we're never going to get any sleep. It's really late.” He laughed, clearly not giving a fuck. “I'm not tired yet,” he teased before kissing you again, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip. “We can stay up..” You pulled back a little, lightly pushing against his chest. “Nooo. I'm getting in the shower. Behave! Or get out.” Trent grinned as he stepped back to turn on the shower before looking over at you. “I'm definitely staying,” he said, with cheeky confidence.

Steam filled the bathroom as the water hit the tiles, and you slipped past him to get under the water. Trent followed close behind, his hands already finding their way to your waist as he pressed his naked body against yours from behind. “You're being so clingy” you teased as he leaned in to kiss your neck. “Can you blame me after you just took my soul like that?” You turned to face him, the water streaming between your bodies. “Don't make me regret inviting you in here.” His hands slipped down to your hips as he pressed you against the cool tile before finding your lips again. “Just making the most of our night.” The kiss deepened, his hands were everywhere. On your waist, your ass, tracing the curve of your back, pulling you close until there was absolutely no space left between you. When things started heating up again you laughed, breaking the kiss and pushing gently at him. “If you don't stop we’ll be in this shower all night.”

“Ah, okay okay. I'll be good then.” he said, though his hands were still cemented on you.

Once you were both clean, you stepped out the shower. The bathroom was warm and steamy. Trent reached for a towel and wrapped it around you. His playful banter from earlier softened and was replaced by something more tender as he dabbed at your skin with the towel. He grabbed a bottle of lotion from the counter, squeezing some onto his hands. “Can't have my girl out here dry and ashy. C’mere.” You burst out laughing at his comment, “Hmm..'your' girl?” You gave him a teasing look, trying not to smile. “I don't remember you asking.”

He grinned up at you as he kneeled down, gently smoothing the lotion over your legs. “Ah, you're right. Guess we have to talk about that, huh?” You giggled, crossing your arms as you watched him work his way up. The way he focused on you made you feel things you weren't really expecting to feel. “I guess so. I'm not yours until you ask and you haven't asked.” He stood up, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your shoulder as the fresh scent of the lotion mixed with the leftover steam from the shower. “Got it. But I'm still not letting you be ashy. My girl or not.”

You burst out laughing again, the sound filling the bathroom as Trent gave you a fake offended look, as if lotioning you up was the most important task he'd ever done in his life. His hands moved deliberately as he massaged the lotion over the rest of your body, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. “You're a mess but I'm kinda into it.” you said, feeling your heart melt at how sweet and tender he was being.

“Only for you Y/N.” Trent replied as he gave you a peck on the lips. He rummaged through a drawer before handing you an old, worn LFC shirt that smelled like him, and a pair of his boxers. “Put this on, you’ll sleep better.” You smiled as you slipped the oversized shirt over your head. He watched you as you pulled on his boxers, which sat low on your hip since they were too big. “Feeling better?” he asked.

“A little. But I'm sooo tired. I need sleep” you whined. He let out a dramatic sigh, pretending like he was annoyed. “All that effort and no cuddle? No reward? C'mon.” You laughed, pushing him lightly as you made your way to his bed. “You're cute, but I still have to work in the morning.” He followed you, still being needy as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, both of you settled in the bed. “Yeah, yeah. The shop,” he said in a soft murmur. He pulled the covers over you both. The way he held you close to him without making it feel like a big deal was so sweet. It felt natural and easy. “Goodnight,” you whispered as your eyes started to close.

Trent's voice was soft, “Goodnight, beautiful.”

You stirred awake the next morning as faint sunlight crept in through the blinds in Trent's room. You shifted slightly, feeling Trent's arm wrapped around your waist. It was comforting, but something felt too peaceful.

Too perfect.

You opened your eyes, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It was 9:37AM.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, sitting up quickly trying to wake yourself up fully. You smacked Trent on the chest. “Trent, get the fuck up! We're late!” He groaned, still partially asleep as he muttered something incoherent and tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you back down on the bed. “Gimme five minutes.”

“GET UP!” you yelled, pushing against him. “We're late, late! I have to open up and we're still at your house!” Trent slowly opened his eyes, his face scrunching in confusion before finally realizing what you said. “What time is it?”

“Past 9:30! I was supposed to be there by now, you were supposed to wake us up!” He laughed sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up and stretched his arms. “Universe had other plans for us like always.” “Oh yeah? The universe wanted me to be late because you couldn't keep your hands off me last night?”

Trent swung his legs over the side of the bed, laughing. “Maybe so.” He stood up, his toned torso catching your attention before you snapped yourself out of it. “We're awake now though. Relax, we'll make it.”

“Relax?? A business can’t run itself!” you scoffed. You got up, hurrying to the bathroom as you tried to pull yourself together. Trent followed you, moving a lot slower than what was acceptable for how late you were. He leaned against the bathroom door, watching you with amusement as you tried to tame your hair. “You look fit in my clothes y’know.” You shot him a look. “We're not doing this right now Trent. I'm gonna be late forreal and it's your fault.”

“It was worth it though.”

You were annoyed at first but as you turned to face him, the annoyance faded when you looked at his satisfied smile. “Maybe..but I still have to get to work.”

Trent smirked, stepping closer as he wrapped his hands on your hips. “I'm sorry. Couldn't help myself.” You shook your head, leaning into him for a quick kiss. “You're lucky you're cute.” He deepened the kiss for a second, knowing it would annoy you before pulling away laughing. “Stoppp! I need to get ready,” you whined, gently swatting him away. “We need to stop by my place so I don't have to wear your boxers to work.”

“Boxers and all, you're still the hottest girl out there.” You grabbed your phone, beginning to head out the door. “Shut up and lets go!” The two of you bolted out of his house, Trent still pulling on a hoodie while you jogged to the car in his oversized shirt, his boxers fluttering around you as you tried to check the emails on your phone. Trent unlocked the car, you slid into the passenger seat muttering to yourself. “Oh my god how are we this late?”

He shrugged, “The universe wanted us to sleep in.”

You laughed, tossing your head back, “Will you shut up and drive?”

“I'm just saying!” he exclaimed, pulling onto the road. “Fate or whatever you wanna call it..that's why we're here aren't we? Maybe the world wants you to chill.”

You shot him a glare. “I'll 'chill' after I open up the store.” Trent turned up the music to something that matched the sunny morning as you glanced at him, a loving smile creeping up on your face. You couldn't deny the connection between the two of you. The sex was amazing but it wasn't just physical stuff. The ease you felt with him despite being the most anxious person ever, the laughs you shared, the way he made you feel like time was an illusion...that was something else.

But you had absolutely no time to be thinking about that right now.

Zero.

Once you got back in town, you quickly stopped at your apartment and sprinted inside to polish yourself into something more presentable. When you finally arrived at Les Notes d'Amour you were running around, unlocking doors, turning on lights, and trying to remember every little detail you needed to put in place. Trent followed behind you lazily with his hands in his hoodie pockets, looking entirely too relaxed. “Need any help?”

You were still frantic as you glanced over your shoulder. “I think you've caused enough chaos the past twelve hours.” He laughed as he started to wander around the shop. “Just making your day more exciting.”

“Exciting? This is stressful.” you echoed, shooting an annoyed look at him. “It's different.”

You couldn't stay mad at him though, not with that beautiful face and dazzling smile of his. He looked like he was having the time of his life watching you scramble around the shop.

After things finally settled down, you leaned against the counter. Trent wandered, scanning the shelves of the different fragrances and oils. “So what's this new collection you're working on?” Trent picked up a small bottle, giving it a curious sniff. “Tell me about it again.” You shrugged, feeling a little deflated as you leaned on your elbows. “It's supposed to be about unexpected moments in life..like chance encounters. But I haven't figured out how to tie it all together.” Trent raised his eyebrow, coming to a realization. “Kinda like us, yeah?” You shot him a look but there was something in his eyes that made your heart feel like it may burst out of your chest. “Maybeee…”

He picked up a bottle, wafting it in the air. “What's this one?”

“That's bergamot,” you said, walking over to stand next to him. “It smells fresh. I was gonna use it to represent the first time we met.” Trent looked down at you, surprised. “The train?” You nodded, “Yeah..when you had on that ridiculous outfit.”

He grinned, looking into your eyes, making you feel butterflies. “Yeah, yeah. I remember.” Trent picked up another scent. “What about this one?”

“That's cardamom. From when we saw each other at the café.” He brought his hands up to your face, faintly tracing the outline of the cupid's bow on your lip with his thumb. “and Paris?”

You picked up two bottles, one pistachio, and the other ylang-ylang. “I thought these could represent Paris.” His expression softened as he leaned in to kiss you.

“Paris was nice.”

“Yeah..it was,” you agreed, pressing your lips to his for a kiss. At that moment, it felt like a missing piece of you had just connected back to you. Trent pulled away from you slowly, “Y’know what's missing?”

“...What?”

He leaned in, his voice low. “An aftershave. Something for me.” You burst out laughing. “Are you being serious right now?” He shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah..you said I need to step my game up. Let me be your muse or something.” You gave him a teasing look, "Oh, now you want to be helpful?”

“I'm just saying..I'll test it out. I’ll bring it to all my matches. Just for you.” You rolled your eyes, still laughing at him. “Maybe I will.”

The air between you thickened, not from the scents surrounding you, but from something far deeper. Something that was undeniably felt yet still unspoken. The quiet understanding that every moment you shared with Trent had woven itself into something you couldn't explain. You didn’t feel like you were even close to defining what the two of you were. Yet, the gravitational pull between you was so strong, so sincere. It wasn't just attraction or a coincidence, it was like the universe took these random moments and stitched them together.

You looked at him, so calm and comfortable in your space, your world. His fingers brushed against a glass bottle with the same ease he carried with everything else. His presence wasn't loud or overwhelming. But it lingered, like the perfect note of a scent that stays with you after it fades from the air. It felt like you were both waiting for something you couldn't name.

Love was just like that.

Soft at first, barely noticeable. Like the first trace of a perfume in the air, you might even miss it if you weren't paying attention. But just like the notes of a carefully crafted scent...it settles into you. It deepens, wrapping itself around you until it becomes something you can't imagine being without. Love didn't need to be loud to be transformative. It didn't need grand gestures or declarations. Sometimes it simply shows up quietly, filling in spaces between words and moments. It changes you in ways you don't see coming.

Every laugh, playful nudge, and quiet glance had woven into something deeper...even if neither of you had spoken it out loud yet.

“I don't know how this happened,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him. “It feels like—”

He nodded, his hand brushing lightly against yours. “Like we weren't supposed to meet any other way.” It felt like fate had nudged you into each other's paths.

Every missed chance or twist of time was always meant to bring you..

Right here.

When love feels like magic, it's called destiny. When destiny has a sense of humor, it's Serendipity.

i think this may have dethroned ch 3 as my fav..feeling very lovey dovey atm 🕊️ if you made it this far, thank you for reading! feel free to share any thoughts in my inbox.

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander x reader #trent alexander arnold smut #footballer x y/n #football imagine #trent alexander arnold imagine #taa x reader #taa

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ineffable-endearments · 1 year ago

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When you (generic, universal) talk about theories about the end of Season 2 and Aziraphale going to Heaven, you often run up against either:

taking everything at face value to the point of ignoring that some details contradict one another

accidentally nullifying major emotional, plot, and character beats by implying that they Didn't Really Happen.

A lot of the differences in analyses, especially ones that I like (LOL), can be explained by the fact that we're analyzing a character who is experiencing massive cognitive dissonance and believes a number of contradictory things at once.

Nobody is wrong to point out Aziraphale's need to Belong to a Good Cause, which makes his acceptance of the Supreme Archangel position entirely in-character; nobody is wrong to point out Aziraphale's anxiety around the Metatron, which indicates that he may have been coerced.

Did Aziraphale go back to Heaven because he's afraid of what will happen if he keeps refusing, or because the Metatron made an implicit threat? Did he go back to Heaven because he's vulnerable to flattery and wants to feel important? Did he go back to Heaven because he thought it would be a way to be permanently safe with Crowley? Or did he go back because he missed belonging to something Good, something bigger than himself? All of the above. It's all of them.

Yes, even though it's incredibly dissonant to believe a system that he KNOWS is dangerous and coercive can accomplish true Goodness, that is in fact his belief.

Admittedly, this is no one I follow - just random comments I see around from people I don't know very well - but it seems like some people out there are assuming Aziraphale can't possibly be making any plans to do anything remotely intelligent, because this would mean that he is already aware that Heaven is bad and would therefore leave no room for character growth.

Except no, that's not necessarily what it means. In fact, the cognitive dissonance is the main thing he is going to have to resolve. Having that dissonance - the belief that Heaven's ideals are genuine, along with the understanding that Heaven is dangerous and needs to be carefully manipulated - is what will move his plot forward. Mindless obedience wouldn't progress his story any more than magic brainwashing coffee would, and it would be equally inconsistent with his story and motivations so far.

The dissonance is the point. And part of the dissonance is that he already knows Heaven is dangerous - he just hasn't accepted what that means yet. It would make sense for him to simultaneously try to work within Heaven's system and watch his own back.

Also, only partly related: Neil might write a story about how the worst people exploit the need to belong and to be Good. He might write a story about how we have to become our own greater good. He might write a story about how to rebuild after you discover your greater good is not so great or good after all. He is not going to write a story about how having any faith or trust in something objectively bigger and stronger than yourself makes you a stupid clown who is wrong about literally everything and shouldn't have even tried.

Let Aziraphale fuck up. He needs to and he will. Whatever plans he was making in that elevator won't actually succeed. But give him credit where it's due.

Edited to add: And you know what? When he fucks up, he's going to get through it. And then he's going to do the right thing. And he's going to get it right when it matters the most.

#good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers #aziraphale #I am like SO SENSITIVE about Aziraphale because look #during the Final Fifteen he is the one saying the more hurtful things #and he is the one being misled back to an objectively bad place #but he is trying SO SO HARD #and I see myself in how incredibly hard he's trying

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milswrites · 9 months ago

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A thousand roses

~ Cassian X Fem!Reader

Summary: Every day you curse the books that gave you unrealistically high expectations of men. Sure you were going to be single forever until you meet Cassian. Adamant he wants to take you on a date, Cassian does his best to impress.

Warning: ⚠️ Reading this may give you unrealistically high expectations of men ⚠️

Actual warnings: Lots of sex talk and inferences to sex but no actual smut!

“And then he made her orgasm three times! Three! The last guy I was with didn’t even manage to squeeze one out of me!”

Upon finishing your latest read, you just couldn’t help but give a very detailed review of exactly what you thought about it to your co-worker. A packed cafe in Velaris during the middle of the day was probably not the most appropriate location to shout about your sex life, but you just had to share how the smut filled pages had left you more satisfied than any man had ever done.

Jadis snorted into the steaming hot tea she was drinking, liquid spilling everywhere, “I’m telling you girl, you just need to get out there, kiss a few frogs to find your prince. I don’t know how many more of your smut reviews I can take. It’s not natural to be this turned on at work.”

You hummed in response, fingers absentmindedly brushing over the pages of your book, “But that’s the problem. I’m too picky to go for a frog!” You blame the hundreds of books in your library at home for that, millions of perfect fictional men literally at your fingertips. “Real men just don’t do it for me anymore.”

This statement was confirmed as you miserably scanned your eyes over the customers in the cafe, none of the males present seeming to stick out to you meet any of your self-imposed standards. You only had yourself and your books to blame for your lack of a relationship.

“I’m just never going to find anyone! Forever reading in my house wishing I was at the mercy of one of my book boyfriends” you sighed, not wanting to seem downhearted but you just couldn’t help it. Velaris just so happened to be a haven for beautiful relationships, everywhere you turned you’d see interlocked hands, affectionate hugs and the occasional heated exchange of kisses. You could only wish that one day you’d be in the same boat as them, overwhelmingly in love with someone who you could call your own. There’s a reason the night court was so affectionately called the court of dreams.

Jadis reeled in your wandering mind, “Well darling, I hope you enjoy forever fantasising about sex rather than having it. I for one can’t wait to take Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome for a spin.”

She was referring to the moderately attractive male who had asked her out the other day during the preparation of his morning coffee. In your opinion, it wasn’t the most romantic scene. Though Jadis hadn’t been on a date in a long while and so in her own words she was going to implode if she didn’t get a good fuck in soon. So who were you to judge.

The bell above the cafe door twinkled, ending the conversation about your book and pathetic love life. Your eyes travelled to the cafe entrance and stopped when they landed on the biggest male you had ever seen. The Illyrian walked through the door, having to duck his head and draw his wings in to fit through the much smaller frame. His presence in the cafe was enough for you to lift your head from where it was sat in your palm, interest peaked.

There was no doubt that this Illyrian was one of the most attractive males you have ever seen. His long brown hair was pulled back messily into a bun. You didn’t normally like the rough, slightly barbarian-esque type, typically preferring your males to be more clean-cut. It was clear this man didn’t look like most males. No, he looked as if he had just stepped out of one of your deliciously sinful smut books.

He began to approach the counter, his body taking up so much space that he bumped into tables, displacing the drinks of customers who were grasping at the mugs and glasses to try and prevent them from spilling at the earthquake caused by this ginormous man. He apologised to each of them as he moved but kept his eyes locked ahead. Locked on you.

Your friend, noticing the effect this man had on you, spun around and immediately started acting as if she was busy with another job, leaving you to serve him in your hypnotised state.

“Just a coffee please love” he said, pulling you from your stupor as he finally came to a stop at the counter. Mother, even his voice was hot. It was resonant and also bore the twinge of gruffness which left goosebumps on your arms in its wake. There was no doubt everything about this man oozed pure sex appeal. You were too mesmerised to move, brain not registering that he had asked you to do your job. Instead, like a besotted fool, you stayed stood behind your counter, feet rooted to the ground.

“You alright there gorgeous?” The unbelievably good looking male asked, roguishly handsome smile growing on his face, clearly aware of the effect he has on you. This spurred you to move, the stacked cups surrounding you rattling at your sudden movement. “Coffee! Right. Yes, of course!” Managing to squeak a few words out, you turned around to busy yourself with making the coffee, hatred in your eyes as you glared at Jadis who left you stranded making coffee for this very handsome man who’s looks alone were doing very strange things to you and making you think very indecent things. Jadis, undeterred by your glare, wiggled her eyebrows at you, grin stretched across her face, beaming from ear to ear.

With shaky hands, you finish up with making his coffee and without turning around, afraid you’d accidentally start professing your undying love to him if you did, you ask, “any sugar?”

His honey coated voice replies, “No thanks, I’ve already got my eye on something sweeter.” You ignored the sight of your friend’s head snapping speedily to look at you in glee. Heat burning across your cheeks, you turn back to face him, avoiding the man’s eyes.

Hands still shaking, you place the coffee in front of him and wait for him to pay. The sooner he leaves the sooner you can gossip with your Jadis about him and moan about your inability to act normal in front of incredibly attractive men. He pulls out the money from his pocket and places it on the counter, pushing it towards you, but before you can take it from him he drags it back in his direction, finger holding it in place. “How about you and I go out together sometime sweetheart? You’re obviously desperate to.”

At this, the lovesick fog that had been swimming in front of your eyes since this man had entered the cafe dissipated. Rose-tinted glasses off you noticed that the smile that adorned his face was more of a cocky smirk. His confidence and tone of voice told you that he asks this question a lot and most likely always gets the answer he desires. It was clear this man wasn’t the personification of one of your book males come to life. He was just another playboy.

Not wanting to just be another name on the list for this man, you slid the money out from under his hand, sickly sarcastic smile on your face, and said, “I think I’ll pass thanks sweetheart.”

The males smirk promptly fell from his face in shock, clearly not expecting, nor used to rejection. He sputtered out a few buts and whats, flirty demeanour forgotten, a slightly pathetic butt-hurt one taking its place. This was definitely a man not used to losing.

“Have a nice day!” You enthusiastically, and very satirically, finished this interaction before walking away to busy yourself with clearing some now empty tables in the cafe. Wings hung low in defeat, the man at the counter left the cafe, bell ringing as he exited. This surprised you, having expected him to put up a little more of a fight, but nonetheless you were glad that it was over with. Cursing yourself for falling for just another pretty face, standards forgotten.

“What?!” Your friend screamed running over to you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you vigorously as if you had lost all senses. Unafraid of scaring off the customers who still sat in the cafe, some clearly entertained by the whole event which had transpired. “Do you know who that was? Oh Y/N he was totally into you! Why did you say no?”

“Because he was looking at me as if I was a piece of meat! And no, I have no idea who he was and unlike you I don’t go jumping on every stranger who asks me out at work” You brushed Jadis off of you and started taking the dirty glasses back behind the counter to be washed, your friend hot on your heels not wanting to finish this conversation just yet.

“That was Cassian!” She continued, expression as if it should have been obvious to you who the Illyrian male was. “Good for him” you replied, no idea why it should matter to you who he was, clearly if Jadis and the few interested by standers in the cafe knew who he was he had quite the reputation in Velaris. Surely that mustn’t be a good thing.

“Cassian? Lord of bloodshed? General and Commander of the Night Court’s army?” She continued, seriously not convinced you could have absolutely no idea about him.

You snorted, “I’m sorry, no one actually has that many titles unless they’re from a book… or if they just have a very large ego”.

Jadis groaned, hands fisting her hair in exasperation, “Y/N he’s like totally hot and totally loaded and super important! And he was so checking you out!” You could tell all this was upsetting your friend who was most definitely hoping you were about to get some much needed action, but all you could do was shrug, “I’m sorry babe but I’m a romantic, it’s going to take more than pet names and a stupidly attractive face to gain my interest.”

Giving up, Jadis dropped her hands from her head in acceptance, disappointment clear on her face, “I know, but don’t come running back to me to complain how unsatisfied you are when that Illyrian god was basically throwing himself at you.”

After the topic of the male was dropped, your day continued as normal, whilst Jadis had promised not to bring it up again but you couldn’t help but notice the angry glances your friend kept throwing your way during the last few hours of your shift, distressed that you had let a man go who had seemed perfectly acceptable in her opinion.

At the end of your shift, in an attempt to get her to understand where you were coming from, you slid your book towards her, “Here. Read it and then maybe you’ll understand what I mean.” She picked it up, looking at the cover eyes bulging at the title, “Bound in chains? Really?”

“Trust me, sit down with a large glass of wine and read it. You’re going to love it!”

With that the two of you locked up the cafe, book secure in Jadis’s bag. You said your goodbyes at the door and headed your seperate ways, all thoughts of the handsome man from earlier in the day long gone. Upon your arrival at home, you wandered to your favourite room in the house, your library, wanting to select a new read to cosy up with for the evening.

Approaching your shelf that you reserved exclusively for books you had bought but had yet to read, you pulled one out by its spine, eyes glancing over the cover. The cover which bore the image of a large, well-muscled man, whose long brown hair flowed freely over his shoulders. Eyes blowing wide and blush returning to your cheeks you shoved the book back onto the shelf. Thoughts drifting back to the Illyrian with the same looks who had been flirting with you earlier. Maybe you’d be better off reading a safe fantasy book tonight. Or better yet a book that had no man in at all, although that would be a rare find in your library.

~~~~~

“I am a changed women”

Returning to work the next day, you were greeted by Jadis smiling, bouncing up and down on her feet, and holding your book in her hands.

“I take it you liked it then?”

“Liked it?”Jadis squealed, “it was like reading pure porn. I loved it”

You laughed along side her, of course Jadis would read an entire book and focus on the porn rather than the actual plot of it.

“Truly I did,” she continued, rushing about and gathering her things, “and I would love to stay behind now my shift has finished to talk about it but I have to go home and get ready for Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome, maybe tonight I can try out some of those moves I read about!” She winked at you, handing over your book before rushing out of the cafe with an excitable “Wish me luck!”

Work had been very quiet today, allowing you time to sit and read your newest book. After finishing a simple fantasy last night you were left unsatisfied by the lack of enjoyment it provided when it came to the physical romance. Needing more, you had selected one of the filthiest books you could find.

Engrossed in the pages, plot thickening by the minute, you were absorbed into the book. Only to be broken from its spell when the familiar chime rang of the bell rang out, signalling a customer had arrived. Rushing to finish the page before they reached the counter, your eyes flew over the words before you finally reached the end of the page. Enabling you to look up from behind your book only to see Cassian standing before you, lips formed into a cautious smile. As if unsure of how you’d react to his presence after yesterday.

“Coffee?” You ask, eyebrows raised, placing your book down before standing up from the stool you were sat on behind the counter.

“Please if you don’t mind, but don’t let me stop you from finishing ‘Fated Frenzy’… cauldron do women really read books like this?” Cassian exclaimed, picking up your book and flicking through the pages, holding it out of reach so you couldn’t snatch it back.

Clenching your fists together as you glared at him you replied, “well if only men knew how to actually please a woman then we wouldn’t have to.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right man then,” Cassian mumbled, focus still on the book that was dwarfed in his large hands. He must have reached a particularly risqué part as his eyes widened slightly, tongue peaking out from between his lips. Now as he spoke, reading from your book, he wore a large grin, “I mean not every man has a cock that looks as if it was sculpted by the gods themselves.”

You scowled, now managing to take hold of the book grasped in one of his large hands and snatched it back. ��I’ve certainly never met a man like that” you replied as you slammed your book back onto the counter and moved off to make his coffee so he could leave you to read in peace.

“Don’t want to check sweetheart?” He teased from behind your back, clearly trying to get you as flustered as he had managed to yesterday. Pleased at your banter. Not wanting to give him what he wants, and definitely not wanting to turn around to see his stupidly handsome smirking face looking back at you, you replied from over your shoulder while you were busy finishing his drink, “it doesn’t take a fool to know the spymaster has a larger wingspan. Now his I’d like to see.”

You heard the catch of his breath, causing him to choke on air at what you had said, clearly not expecting your confident retort, and not saying anything at the discovery you do indeed know who he is all thanks to Jadis. Cheeks stretching into a grin of your own at his embarrassment, you turn and place his drink in front of him. Unlike yesterday, Cassian didn’t even attempt to reach for his money before asking, “Please, let me take you out somewhere nice”.

Your smile dropped, head shaking slowly, “What classes as nice in your books? Other than a quick fuck behind the back of the building.” This comment made Cassian’s eyebrows knit together, not happy with the impression you had of him. “What will it take for you to understand I’m serious? That I want to take you on a date to get to know you.” He sounded earnest you’d give him that.

“I don’t know ok! I just know that I’m not going to say yes to a man I don’t even know who asked me out while I was just doing my job.”

He stretched out his hand, trying to meet yours which was resting on the counter but you pulled away before any contact could be made. “I want to get to know you, if you’ll let me. Likes, dislikes, good bits, bad bits, everything.”

“I- I don’t know Cassian, I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“What will it take?” He begged, eyes desperate.

“For you to be like one of them” you said, nodding your head towards your book.

“An overly sexual alpha male?” He said, confused as to what you were actually referring to. This made a small laugh escape from your lips, “No that’s just a bonus. I’m sorry Cassian, I just dream about being swept of my feet by a man that acts like one of them. Romantic, sweet, not asking out every other woman they see.”

“I can be romantic” Cassian said defensively, “I can be incredibly romantic”

Wanting to get this interaction over with you decided just to agree with him. “I’m sure you can Cassian, no doubt there’s a very lucky woman waiting for you somewhere”.

You weren’t sure it was possible for his brows to furrow any more than they already were, “I’ll prove it to you. Prove that I’m all in on this. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I’m not going to let you go that easily.” Determined look plastered on his face Cassian grabbed his coffee and walked towards the door pulling the it open, bell chiming, and before he stepped outside he called back to you, “I’ll see you soon gorgeous, you better be ready for me” and with that Cassian left, the cafe silent apart from the bell still ringing, the sound helping you realise that Cassian was real and that interaction did actually happen.

It was only five minutes later, when your wild thoughts were tamed by another customer entering did you realise that Cassian never even paid for his drink.

~~~~~

“Y/N!” Cassian shouted bustling through the tables to reach you as he entered your work once more. Shock flooded your system, he had learnt your name from when you last spoke to him two days ago. After causing a ruckus, and spilling many drinks onto poor unsuspecting customers laps, he reached the counter where you were stood waiting for him.

“What are you-“ you started angrily, worried he would scare away valued customers. Though you were interrupted by Cassian whose arm, which was hiding behind his back, shot out revealing the largest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen.

He held them out expectantly, waiting for you to take them but your suprise had you rooted to the spot. Familiar with your freezing by now, Cassian impatiently shook the bouquet in your face, movement bringing your thoughts back to the present. Still not taking them, not quite believing something so beautiful could be gifted to you, you spoke, “They’re lovely Cassian but you just cut right in front of Matilda who was here first!” Cassian’s features faltered as he dropped the bouquet in disappointment.

Matilda , the lovely little old fae who frequented your cafe, leaned around Cassian’s broad figure so she could see you, “it’s alright Y/N! Take the damn flowers and talk to the man!”

Cassian thanked the older women and stuck out the flowers once more. “For you,” he said encouragingly, willing you to accept the gift, “I told you I’d prove myself to you. I’m here for a date.” By this point you had been stood there for a ridiculous time causing your Jadis to stretch her arm past you and grab the flowers smirking as she says, “Thank you Cassian, they’re beautiful, Y/N loves them. Lillies are her favourite, how did you know?” Winking as she walked off with the bouquet it was clear Cassian has been getting some insider information from the mouth of your best friend.

The Illyrian nodded his head at your friend gratefully and you finally rediscovered the ability to speak, “Thank you, but if you’re here for a date I’m sorry I can’t help you, this is my work Cas, I have to do my job.”

“Pfft bit presumptuous I’m here for a date with you”

At that your face fell slightly before you quickly returned you expression to normal, not wanting Cassian to know his words had an effect on you. Surely he wouldn’t bring you flowers just to have a date with another woman in your workplace. Was this some twisted way to try and make you jealous?

Flirty expression on his face Cassian adjusted where he was stood and flung his arm around Matilda who began to blush, “Have to find out everything I can about you from my beautiful date Matilda here! One coffee for me and one of whatever my darling date would like” he said, making Matilda giggle before asking for her usual. Relief flooding you body, your lips twitched and you began to make their order, “my, my, Matilda. I have to say I expected better in your taste of men”.

“Woah woah no need to tell her,” Cassian joked, “don’t want this hot commodity to leave me for something better” he finished, winking at Morgana who looked as happy as if it was Solstice morning. Grabbing the finished drinks you had placed before him, he headed to a table, coming back once the drinks were down to walk Matilda to her chair, but not before placing his money on the counter, saying, “Moneys there for the other day by the way, I’ll speak to you later.”

Cassian must have sat talking with Matilda for hours, watched closely by you from the corner of your eye as you worked, customer after customer coming and going. Finally when the rush had died down and your shift was coming to an end, the two who had been huddled together gossiping over more than a few coffees, hot chocolates and cakes stood to take their leave. Or more accurately, Matilda was taking her leave. Cassian had said his goodbyes bending down to give Matilda a big hug and then scooped their empty plates and cups into his arms before walking towards you.

There wasn’t enough time for him to place the items down on the counter before you watched as Matilda lay a firm smack to his backside before giggling, “I’ll see you later hot stuff.” Lucky not to break any cups, Cassian jumped, flying forwards and dropping them all onto the counter before you, eyes terrified.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, placing the cups the right way up before checking on the male, “you alright there hot stuff?”

“Oh don’t even start. That woman’s got one strong slap” he whined, hand rubbing his ass to relieve some of the pain.

“Don’t act like that’s not how all your dates end” you goaded, cheeks twinging at the effort to stop yourself from bursting out laughing.

“Trust me gorgeous, if any of my actual dates ended like that I wouldn’t be complaining” he winked at you, all the while pulling a napkin out of its holder to help you clean his mess from the counter.

As you watched him clean, you couldn’t help but admire the way his brows slightly furrow when he’s concentration, noting the way his focused mouth tilts to once side, tongue slightly poking from between his lips. He was handsome there was no denying it.

“Will you walk me home?” You blurted, snapping your mouth shut and internally cursing yourself for asking such a ridiculous thing, digging yourself into an even deeper hole you continued, “it’s only that the flowers you got me are so big… and I have all my other things…and…uh..”

“Y/N, I would love to walk you home”

“Great! I’ll just um, go and grab my stuff”

You turned, heading towards the cloakroom, only to be met by Jadis, bag and bouquet in hand. She shoved them eagerly into your arms squealing, “go get him girl!” Hands pressed against your back, she forced you to move forwards until you were in front of Cassian, “don’t have too much fun you two” she said now guiding you both from the cafe, tripping and stumbling over each others feet as Jadis’s excitement led to some very firm shoving.

~~~~~

Once outside in one piece, no thanks to Jadis, Cassian plucked the flowers from your arms allowing you to swing the strap of your book-filled bag over your shoulders. Timidness now overcame you, what were you supposed to say to him now? Had asking him to walk you home seemed too desperate?

“So what are you reading now? Not another book about a poor sexually frustrated female?” He asked, breaking your panicked thoughts as he walked side by side with you.

“No sex this time,” you giggled lightly, “this one’s about a man who sacrificed his kingdom for his true love”

“You really like that stuff huh?” Cassian spoke softly to you, he sounded like he was truly interested in finding out exactly how your brain worked, “that true love and romantic gestures shit?”

“It’s not shit” you defended, “sometimes it helps me not feel so alone. Reading about all these grand gestures and things people do for the ones they love.”

Cassian cleared his throat awkardly, his hand which was not holding the flowers moving up to scratch at his head, “and you’re into that? Romantic gestures?”

“It’s hard not to be. Pretty sure it’s every girls dream to be swept of their feet and fall as deeply as characters do in books.” Cassian was nodding along to what you were saying but his eyes showed he was lost in thought. It was your turn to draw him from his head, “you never done anything romantic for your ladies Cas?”

His name on your lips seemed to work, the clouds of thought in his eyes fading as he turned his gaze from the road ahead to you, “I guess I’ve normally always thought that just me is enough”. He didn’t say this to be cocky or narcissistic, you could tell. You didn’t mean to make him feel shame over the situation, you had been genuinely curious. Perhaps a little jealous at the thought of Cassian putting in just as much work into chasing other women as he has been with you.

“That’s ok. I think romance is more reserved for the pages of books these days than in actual reality”

Not a fan of where this conversation had turned to Cassian did his best to lift the mood, “I’m not surprised you think that if all your books were like that one I caught you reading. Heck where are you meant to find a overprotective god of war with who hates everyone but the lowly daughter of an inventor and they go on to have insane - and totally not physically possible by the way- sex!”

You scrunched your face, “Cassian there’s no way you were able to get all that from one page…Oh cauldron! You read the book! You read Fatal Frenzy!”

As if only now realising what he said to you, a flustered Cassian tried to provide you with lame excuses as to how he knew that information until it was clear you weren’t going to let it go. After about five minutes of listening to your constant prodding, poking and teasing as you walked, Cassian caved, “Fine! Fine, I read it ok. I was curious as to how he was going to put his god level cock to use!”

By this point you were full on cackling, having to stop your walking to put a hand on your stomach at the thought of this mountain of a man sitting down to read a devilishly smutty book. “I have to say”, you gasped out in-between giggles, “I’m surprised you can even read”.

Cassian acted out the most overdramatic reaction to your words, his hands flew to his heart, bouquet still in his grasp, and released loud, exaggerated noises of pain and cries of just how horrible you were. People had began to stop in the street, wondering why the Lord of Bloodshed was acting as though he had just been shot. Rolling your eyes and wanting the attention off the two of you, you elbowed his side prompting him to stop, “careful you’ll crush my flowers if you die any wilder.”

Charming grin of his face, Cassian looked down at you, “we wouldn’t want that would we? Not when a super hot guy went through the effort of finding out your favourite flowers for you.”

“You’re crazy” you said in dismissal, continuing to walk in the direction of your home.

“Your kind of crazy?” A hopeful tone in Cassian’s voice.

“I haven’t quite decided yet” you said honestly. You couldn’t deny that Cassian was already proving himself to you more than any man has. No one had ever bought you flowers before and no male had ever attempted to read a book you were reading for your attention.

“Well you just let me know when you do” Even the way Cassian looked at you made you melt.

“You’ll be the first” gentle smile on your face. Nerves building in you once more as you thought about what going further with the man next you you would entail.

Content to let you walk lost in your thoughts, Cassian didn’t try to force any conversation. A natural peace fell between the two of you, the silence not an awkward one. It wasn’t until you neared the outside of your house that you broke the silence, “Well, this is me”.

Nodding Cassian passed you the bouquet. For the first time you looked at the flowers and really admired them, admired the fact this man had gone out his way to go to your friend and make sure he got your favourite ones.

“Thank you Cassian,” you said, laying a kiss onto his stubbled cheek, “they’re beautiful.”

Cassian’s usual confidence gone, it was his turn to blush. Shyly, he tried his luck again, “so about that date?”

You walked over to your door, pulling out your key, turning back to Cassian, twinkle in your eyes, you said, “ask me again tomorrow”.

“That wasn’t a no!” He said, confidence rushing back into him. As you entered your house and peaked through the window behind your curtains you couldn’t help but watch Cassian, beam on his face, as he jumped on the spot. A small celebration that you hadn’t fully rejected him once more. A matching grin on your face as you observed him, you stayed watching until he took off from the ground, large angelic wings spread, wondering what in Prythian was this man doing to you and what sinful things you’d like to do with those wings.

~~~~~

You were sorely disappointed over the course of the next week. Since that evening Cassian had walked you home to the cafe he had not returned. Jadis tried to keep your thoughts positive, saying he was probably away on important Night Court business, being the General of its army and all. After being the one to speak to Cassian about you she was adamant that he was undoubtedly in love with you and he wouldn’t leave you hanging.

It was hard though, when the eighth day of his absence rolled round, not to think that he had found someone more interesting to pursue. Someone who didn’t make him work as hard for their affections. Your mood was so glum that you didn’t even have the heart to read. Why read about love when you’re not sure you believe in it anymore?

You had spent days wondering what you had done wrong. Had you been too forward? Or did he find your obsession with males that weren’t real a little too bizarre? You did your best not to dwell on it but it was so hard not to, the flowers you had placed in a vase on the side table in your library, right next to your reading chair, still flourished beautifully, a constant reminder of the man who crashed into your life only to leave it in shambles.

So here you were, sat on the stool in the cafe, your thoughts being the only thing to keep you busy due to your sudden lack of interest in reading. It had been another quiet day, but it wasn’t long now until Jadis would arrive, you had opened the cafe for her after she asked for a favour so she could spend the night at Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome’s, who’s name you had learnt was Arthur. Happy that even if your love life was crumbling, at least Jadis’s was blooming. However, you were thankful you weren’t actually supposed to be working today, not sure if you could survive another shift listening to her unintentionally boast about how perfect Arthur was and how good he is at sex.

So you sat there and waited for her arrival, desperate to go home and crawl into your bed. Without your typical reading to do, you found yourself spending most of your free time sleeping, wasting away the hours you didn’t know what to do with yourself in.

It was finally an hour after the time she had promised to be in for, when Jadis flew into the cafe, bell ringing aggressively at her sudden entrance. Running to where you were at the counter, coat and bags in hand, she was profusely apologising over and over for her tardiness.

“You must have had a good night with Mr Handsome” you teased, trying not to let your slight annoyance at you still being here show. Confusion flashed across her face before she quickly corrected it in realisation, “Oh yeah! Totally great sex, every woman’s dream. Hugeeee dick.”

Opening your mouth, ready to ask her about her odd behaviour, she pulled you from your stool before you could talk. Dragging you out from behind the work area, saying “Come on Y/N it’s your day off, don’t want to be here any longer than you have to be!”

Now you defiantly knew something was off, Jadis typically keeping you an hour in-between shifts to catch you up on everything that has happened since the day before. “Jadis, what’s going on?” You asked cautiously, had something happened between her and Arthur? No. Jadis would definitely tell you if that was the case, or maybe she just didn’t want to make you any more depressed than you already were. Still in that strange tone of voice, Jadis kept pushing you to leave, “Nothings wrong! I’m fine. Now leave, you still have the whole day to do something, go read one of your smut books!”

This confirmed she was definitely hiding something, knowing that you haven’t picked up a book for the past week after listening to your incessant complaining about the matter. If you weren’t so desperate to leave and go rot in bed for the rest of the day you would have stayed and forced whatever it is she was hiding out of her. You decided that was tomorrow’s job, when you had a nice six hour shift together where she couldn’t avoid your pestering.

Shrugging on your coat and promising to yourself you’d find out what she was dodging tomorrow, you left the cafe. Turning your head around to look back through the windows only to be met with Jadis and her crazed eyes watching, as if making sure you were walking in the direction of your house. Unsettled, you followed the streets leading home, praying to the Mother that your friend was alright and you weren’t about to have to kill a man for upsetting her.

Finally, you arrived at your door, turning the key in the lock you were startled to discover the door was already unlocked. You were exhausted when you left that morning but you could have sworn you weren’t so tired that you’d risk your property and your safety like that.

Fear now coursing through your veins, you quietly pushed your door open, scared you would alert anyone in your house that you were there and something bad would ensue. The fae lights in your hallway were all lit, softly casting a warm glow over your home. You stepped inside, and instead of your foot meeting the usual plush of your carpet it was met with a slight crunch.

Casting your eyes to the ground you gasped. There were hundreds of rose petals scattered across your floor, leading towards each of your rooms. Following the trail, you made it through to the entrance of your living room, if your jaw dropped any lower you were sure it’d hit the floor.

The entire room looked as if it had been covered in a red blanket, a sea of roses covering the entirety of your room to the point where you couldn’t actually see anything that wasn’t a deep shade of red.

By this point your heart was pounding in your chest and you were sure you could feel your eyes watering, the hundreds of roses placed around you getting blurrier and blurrier. But there was no sign of the man you were sure had placed them.

Turning around you sped into each of your rooms, wanting nothing more than to find Cassian and throw your arms around him. Each room the same as the last, filled to the brim with the most beautiful roses. Lillies may once have been your favourite flowers but you think the kind-hearted man, who had wormed his way into your heart, may have just changed your mind. Roses were perfect.

Still no Illyrian insight you flung open the door to your library. Room decorated just as over the top as the others. And there in the centre of it all, sat waiting for you to return home, is Cassian. He stood quickly, treading on some of the flowers placed by his feet.

“How?” You asked, voice cracking as you tried to hold the tears at bay.

“It wasn’t easy, Jadis let me in.” Cassian said lightheartedly from where he stood across the room, too far from you for your liking, “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I wanted to do this the day after we last spoke but I guess I didn’t actually think about the logistics of getting thousands of roses delivered.”

You stayed silent, heart overwhelmingly filled with love for the man before you, the man who had spent the past week getting a thousand roses just to ask you on a date. Taking your silence for something bad, Cassian began to ramble, “My brother Azriel - the spymaster - he helped too…I wanted to make sure it’d be done in time. It’s a mess I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll clear it all out for you I just-“

You cut him off, tears now flowing freely down your red hot cheeks, hands trembling, “it’s perfect Cassian. Nobody…nobody has ever done anything like this for me” At the sign of your tears Cassian made to make his way towards you but was stopped by the fact he just didn’t know where to place his foot without ruining all his hard work.

“Clearly I didn’t think this through very well” he mumbled, arms out to keep him balanced and preventing him from falling. Not wanting to spend a minute more away from him after having to suffer through a whole week, you ran, roses be damned right into his arms. Throwing yourself at his muscled body as he caught you, pulling you close to his chest in midair.

“You’re crazy!” you exclaimed, head tucked into his neck as you rested it on his shoulder.

Cassian placed you down gently, arms still wrapped tightly around your waist but he wanted to look into your eyes for this, “your kind of crazy?” His eyes held that same hopeful desperation that they had when he last asked you out.

“Hell yeah” and with that you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and connected his lips to yours.

The kiss was like nothing you had ever read before in one of your books. It was everything and more. A fire ignited within you, burning hotter and hotter and you just kept needing more. Cassian the fuel to your fire and you were sure that as long as you had him with you it was a flame that would never die out.

It was a messy clash of teeth and tongues, both of you uncaring of how sloppily and uncoordinated were kissing. All you knew was you needed each other like the pages of a book needed ink. You kissed and you kissed, hands wandering until you weren’t sure which parts belonged to Cassian and which to yourself.

The need to breathe forgotten, you continued. Hands running over his back which was rippled in muscles before reaching around his neck, holding onto him tightly as he picked you up once more.

It was only when the need for air was so overwhelming that you had no other option to pull away that you did. Heads pressed together, lips still slightly touching, a trail of saliva linking the two of you together. Cassian continued to hold you in his arms as if you were nothing but a feather, catching his breath he finally began to speak, “So about that date then?”

You giggled, pulling him even closer to you by his neck and laying a soft peck on his lips before drawing away to give your answer, Cassian’s mouth chasing after yours, “If this is how you ask me, I can’t wait to see what you have planned for our first date. Hopefully you don’t ignore me for a month whilst you prepare.”

Barking out a laugh Cassian placed you on the floor of roses, holding your hands to ensure you didn’t stumble. He looked around the room, proud smile adorning his face, he first took in the roses which he had took so long in prepping, screaming at Azriel when he hadn’t placed them down as he had pictured in his head. His gaze then swept your shelves, hundreds of books upon them.

“Ever read about this in one of your books?”

“Nope this is definitely a first”

His eyes landed on the book resting on your table, right next to the vase full of lilies he had originally given you, title in gold lettering along the front of the cover. Fated Frenzy. The book he had read because of you. You laughed as you spotted what he was staring at, his eyes travelling back to you, running up your body with hunger before finally settling on your eyes.

“You into roleplay gorgeous?”

With those words he smashed his lips back onto yours. The promise of an exciting night ahead.

Here, standing in your library entwined with the Illyrian you decided all those characters you have read about were lacking in one thing you never even knew you needed.

They weren’t Cassian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: You have no idea how much I wanted to finish this fic with “And so Cassian did” lol

Happy Valentines <3

#acotar #fanfic #cassian fic #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian #cassian oneshot #a court of thorns and roses #acotar imagine

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